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Photographic 

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illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

'■■■ ,  ■      v,,-v-( 

6 

PASCO, 


A  CUBAN  TALE. 


AND    OTHER   POEMS. 


WITH    AN   ESSAY    ON   MUSIC    APPENDED. 


BY 


R.  RUTLAND   MANNERS. 


Here  pause  my  gothic  lyre  a  little  time : 
The  leisure  hour  is  all  that  thou  canst  claim. 

—  Beattie. 


JJnnteb  ot  t[)t  Uiuersibe  Puss,  OTambtibge, 

(NEW  YORK:    HURT)  AND  HOUGHTON.) 
1877. 


72128 


i. 


COPTRIGHT,   1877, 

By  R.  RUTLAND  MANNERS. 


.y 


^ 


,,5^pP!S«p««»«»*-  ;;ap^'|^--  i^^,„ 


r. 


To 


HER  LADYSHIP, 

THE  COUNTESS  OF  DUFFERIN, 

THE   FOLLOWING   UNWORTHY   COLLECTION 

BT  PIBMISSIOM, 
INSCRIBH),  m  ALL  DDTT  AKD  RESPKOT, 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


.*/,. 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE. 


In  venturing  to  obtrude  the  following  contents  upon 
public  notice,  I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  expect  that 
any  allowance  will  be  made  on  account  of  the  adverse 
circumstances'  under  which  they  have  been  produced ; 
nor  does  there  appear  to  be  any  injustice  in  the  re- 
fusal to  admit  such  a  plea  in  view  of  the  fact  stated  by 
Dr.  Johnson,^  that  "a  book  to  the  reader  is  neither 
better  nor  worse  for  the  circumstances  under  which 
its  author  has  written  it."  Inasmuch,  however,  as  it 
is  equally  true,  and  upon  the  same  eminent  authority, 
that  "  to  justly  estimate  any  man's  work  it  should  be 
compared  with  his  own  particular  advantages,"  per- 
haps the  indulgence  which  is-  not  here  sought  as  a  right 
may  be  extended  as  a  privilege.     If  so,  I  would  beg 


*  *'  Preface  to  Shakspere. 


vi 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


to  explain  that  the  lines  herein  presented  have  been 
written  during  the  leisure  time  of  evening,  which  alone 
has  been  at  my  command ;  other  occupation  demanding 
the  hours  of  the  day.  This  is  stated  simply  because  I 
feel  assured  that  those  into  whose  hands  this  little 
volume  may  find  its  way,  will  be  more  lenient  in  their 
criticisms  from  a  knowledge  of  the  fact. 


M. 


New  York,  June,  1877. 


1/ 


T  m  \ 


I    i 


CONTENTS. 

♦  - 

INTRODUCTORY  NOTE v 

PASCO :   A  Cuban  Tale 9 

SPRING:  An  Idyl 50 

RETROSPECTION:  A  Romance 57 

MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON       .        .  64 

A  DREAM:  Sea  Ptctures 70 

SONNETS. 

Canada 79 

My  Mother 80 

Solitude 81 

To-morrow 82 

Music 83 

Licet 84 

Darkness 85 

Meditation 86 

Inri 87 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Love  and  Dignity:   An  Allegory  .        .        .        .91 

Music  and  Memory:   An  Allegory     ....        95 
The  Gladiator:   From  the  French       .        .        .        .97 

QuAND  Meme 99 

Address  to  the  Moon 101 

Farewell 104 

Lines  written  at  Arlington,  Va.,  Cemetery     .        .  106 

To  my  Bird 108 

Litany  —  versified 110 


viii  CONTENTS. 

A  Thought 2^3 

Stanza jl^ 

Proix)guk ,        ^  125 

Sunset 22g 

A  Remembrance 121 

"Sweet  Flower" 122 

Love  to  the  Mirror 123 

To  *  ♦  * » .123 

Love  in  Absence  —  Spanish  Proverb  .         ...  124 

Lines  IN  AN  Album,  L,  IL,  III 125 

Lines— "If  o'er  each  worthier  birth  some  proud  star 

shines  " 126 

In  Memoriam I27 

SONGS. 

See,  down  the  Mountain's  Shadowy  Side  .  .  .131 
There  's  some  One  with  the  Brightest  Eyes  .  132 
Oh,  when  the  Heart  is  breaking        .        .        .        .133 

Bright  Bird  OF  Spring 134 

I  Love  to  look  into  thine  Eyes 135 

Hope,  what  art  thou  to  me? 136 

Barcarolle I37 

FRAGMENTS. 

A  Vision  —  Allegorical,  "Love  and  Wealth"  .  141 
The  Dakota I47 

ESSAY  ON  MUSIC I53 


13 

14 
t5 
[8 

II 
2 
3 

[ 


PASCO. 


■Sf 


1  I 


PASCO : 


A  CUBAN   TALE. 


I. 

Glad  roll  the  waters  of  the  southern  sea, 
Circling  with  blue  its  coral-girted  isles, 
O'er  which  all-radiant  Summer  ever  smiles, 
Her  royalist  gifts  there  scattering  bounteously. 

The  orange  spreads  its  bright  luxuriance  there 
O'er  sunlit  slopes  and  far  along  the  plain, 
Skirted  by  palms,  which  oft  appear  a-field 
In  groups  amid  the  yellow  clustering  yield, 
And  thus,  beneath  the  sunlight,  seem,  from  'far 
Sprung  from  the  islets  of  a  golden  main ! 


And  there  the  sun  illumes  the  bluest  sky 

Of  all  it  gilds ;  glassed  in  translucent  seas. 

Whose  depths  it  turns  with  subtle  alchemy 

To  gold  ;  their  waves  lisping  soft  melodies     ' 

To  slumbering  shells,  low  murmuring  in  their  sleep, 

Of  sweet  content,  thus  fondled  by  the  deep. 


12 


PASCO. 


As  clustering  trees  all  blossom-laden  rest 

'Mid  the  rose-haze  of  summer's  sultry  day, 

So  lie  those  isles  upon  the  sun-flushed  breast 

Of  tropic  seas  where  spicy  breezes  play. 

Soft  are  those  winds  with  fragrant  sweets  imbued, 

Culled  from  the  lemon  and  rich  orange  blooms  ; 

From  countless  flowers  spending  their  chaste  perfumes 

Upon  the  air  —  o'erfilled  to  lassitude. 

Unceasingly  amid  the  island  shades 

Pours  the  glad  music  of  the  bright-plumed  throng, 

Most  joyous  heard  'mid  the  secluded  glades 

Of  the  wild-wood,  where  they  betimes  prolong 

Into  the  silence  of  the  night  their  song. 

Thus  when  the  moon  her  softest  charms  unveils. 
In  sylvan  streams  to  bathe  her  fair,  chaste  form. 
Along  their  marge  the  lute-tongued  nightingales 
The  evening  hours  fill  with  their  notes  love-warm. 


r 


Entrancing  scenes  of  artless  luxury  ! 
Where  bounteous  Nature  has  profusely  shed 
Her  rarest  gifts,  nor  deem  on  earth  can  be 
Scenes  where  her  beauties  are  more  richly  spread. 

Yet,  'mid  those  scenes,  in  sullen  grandeur  rise 
Mountainous   steeps,   wild-cragged,  their  forms   sear- 
browned. 


PASCO. 


18 


Which  boldly  reach  majestic  toward  the  skies, 
Their   towering   crests   with  dark -plumed   pines  en- 
crowned  ! 
Upon  their  heights  the  island  mountaineer  — 
In  .  iew  the  waters  of  th'  encircling  sea  — 
Makes  his  abode ;  his  joy  their  crags  to  dare  ; 
Nor  deems  he  else  an  equal  luxury, 
Though  'neath  his  feet  unfading  shades  abound, 
And  fruits  delicious  freight  the  hidden  ground. 

Such  beauty  theirs  —  those  isles  of  "  Indies' "  sea ; 
iSuch  riches  theirs  as  tempt  cupidity ! 


n. 

The  morn  across  the  Antillean  seas 
Broke  softly  with  a  freshening  breeze, 
Which  o'er  the  bounding  billows  swept. 
Till  in  the  island  groves  it  slept. 
Or  wandered  merrily  along 
Amid  its  shades,  which,  at  its  song 
Waking,  their  "  leafy  banners  "  hung 
Out  as  it  passed,  while  sweetly  sung 
The  plumaged  throng,  in  bright  array, 
Their  anthem  to  returning  day. 
To  these  and  opening  woodland  flowers. 
To  lakelets  bright,  in  verdant  bowers 
Embosomed,  the  glad  Zephyr  spoke 
Its  greetings,  and  all  Nature  woke 


m 


mmmmi 


14 


PASCO. 


To  joy ;  the  sylvan  wavelets  kissing 
,        From  sleep  ;  with  smiles  them  dimpling  o'er, 
As  from  their  cradled  rest  enticing, 
To  leave  them  sighing  on  the  shore  ! 

III. 

The  sun,  now  risen  o'er  the  verdured  trees 

Tuned  by  the  breeze  to  rustic  symphonies. 

Shed  o'er  Sevilla's  lake,  —  whose  waters  lie 

Among  the  hills  that  overlook  the  sea, 

Caribbean  named,  where  round  the  southern  coast 

Of  Cuba's  isle  it  circles,  eastward  lost,  — 

Its  softest  rays,  yet  brightest,  till  its  breast 

Sparkled  with  brilliants,  like  some  Beauty  dressed 

In  jewelled  splendor,  as  it  rose  and  fell 

In  warm  pulsation,  softly  audible. 

Upon  its  wooded  slopes,  here  long  alone, 

Save  for  his  child,  —  scarce  to  his  household  known, 

In  solitude  had  dwelt  and  slept  —  now  dead,  — 

The  Count  Zambrana.     Many  years  had  fled 

Since  first  he  sought  the  shades  which  now  waved  o'er 

His  marble  crypt  upon  the  farther  shore. 

Whence   he    had   come  none  knew,  none   e'er   had   ^ 

known  ; 
Why  thus  he  lived,  avoiding  e'en  his  own. 
And  none  remembered  since  the  earliest  day 
He  sought  those  hills  one  from  them  spent  away, 
Though  at  each  eve  this  man  of  mystery 
Had  loved  to  wander  by  the  neighboring  sea ; 


PASCO. 


15 


And  only  there  was  he  e*er  known  to  show 
Aught  of  emotion  ;  then  from  some  deep  woe 
It  seemed  to  rise,  which  in  his  heart  lay  sealed, 
Some  wearing  secret  jealousy  concealed. 
Stern  was  his  glance,  withal  yet  kind  his  eye 
Where  pride  enthroned  maintained  a  mastery 
O'er  those  emotions  which  his  heart  down-weighed. 
Nor  rose  unguarded,  save  when  sleep  betrayed. 
In  life,  his  thought  ne*er  wearying  did  employ 
Itself  in  studying  but  his  daughter's  joy ; 
And  wealth  possessed,  left  her  naught  to  desire, 
Save  to  reclaim  from  that  dark  shade  her  sire,  — 
Was  it  remorse  or  sorrow  which  thus  moved 
The  heart  her  own  so  truly,  fondly  loved. 
But  Death — that  presence  which   man's   heart   sub- 
dues. 
Refusing  oft  that  which  alone  it  sues 
In  life's  last  hour :  a  moment's  strength  to  bear 
Up  from  its  tomb  the  sins  Pride  buries  there  — 
Had  sought  Zambrana,  and  its  swift  decree 
Forever  sealed  his  life's  strange  mystery, 
Save  that  unconscious  then,  his  tongue  betrayed 
Accents  that  told  of  passion's  hand  unstayed, 
Named  with  his  wife,  as  wild  emotion  pressed 
Its  rending  billows  o'er  his  troubled  breast : 
She  whom  those  lips  had  never  named  before 
For  years  ;  a  stranger  to  the  child  she  bore. 
Now  years  had  fled ;  to  womanhood  had  grown 
The  child,  yet  had  she  not  been  left  alone, 


16 


PASCO. 


For  a  not  less  than  mother's  love  was  hers 
In  one  her  guardian  from  her  earliest  years. 

IV. 

Upon  the  woodland  lake,  smooth  gliding  o'er 
Its  waves,  a  gondola  approached  the  shore. 
Beneath  the  oar  of  swarthy  Islander 
Borne  gently  onward.     Long  his  raven  hair 
Fell  from  beneath  a  ribboned  sombrero. 
About  his  neck  uncovered,  and  below. 
Across  his  half  bared  breast  of  olive  hue, 
Floated  before  the  breeze.     His  eyes  —  but  who 
Would  paint  a  Criollo  and  shade  his  eyes 
Less  dark  than  are  his  southern  starlit  skies  ! 
A  lovely  figure  in  the  boat  reclined : 
Zambrana's  daughter,  her  sweet  form,  confined 
In  softest  folds  of  chaste  illusion,  lay 
The  paragon  of  grace  and  symmetry. 
Beneath  a  silk  o'ershading,  on  a  spread      ■ 
Of  Persian  tapestry.     Rested  her  head 
On  her  warm  hand,  round  which  her  wealth  of  hair. 
Entwined  with  rosebuds,  fell ;  and  naively  there 
Their  crimson  blossoms  clung,  and  seemed  to  seek 
To  shade  the  damask  softness  of  her  cheek. 
Her  eyes  were  dark  —  't  would  be  a  mockery 
To  try  to  paint  them  by  a  simile, 
As  they  beneath  their  silken  fringe,  half  closed, 
In  lustrous  languor,  dreamingly  reposed. 


PASCO.  17 

And,  as  the  moon  along  the  summer  sky 
Floats  calmly  on  in  silvery  drapery 
Of  fleecy  clouds,  —  rent  by  the  wind,  concealed 
Its  beauteous  form,  yet  modestly  revealed : 
So  her  loose  garment  by  the  breeze  caressed, 
Disclosed  the  beauteous  softness  of  her  breast 
Whose  deep  pulsations  quickened,  moved  as  though 
Love's  restless  billows  tossed  the  heart  below. 

A  terraced  stair,  with  marble  balustrade, 
Rose  from  the  lake,  and  thence  an  avenue, 
'Neath  palms  o'er-arching,  stretched  up  the  hill-side 
To  where,  crowning  its  summit,  the  chateau 
In  antique  beauty  stood.     Around  the  shade 
Of  the  mimosa  and  acacia  swayed 
In  wandering  winds,  laden  with  sweets  distilled 
From  neighboring  lemon  groves,  while  clustering  there 
Bloomed  floral  hues  unnumbered,  and  the  air, 
Amid  the  foliage  musical,  was  filled 
With  songs  of  birds. 


Delightful  scenes  stretched  round  on  every  liand, 
Far  as  the  sight  the  vista  could  command. 
Of  orange  groves  waving  their  golden  yield 
Where  royal  magnolias  ranged  the  freighted  field, 
And  undulating  plains,  which  to  the  view 
Their  stately  palms  displayed  in  richest  hue, 
While  blue  beyond  rose  'gainst  the  azure  sky 
A  mountain  range  in  sullen  majesty, 


18 


PASCO. 


Stretching  far  eastward  with  the  boundless  Sea, 
The  sister  tenants  of  immensity  ! 


fyi 


i 


,!■ 


Near  the  chateau,  'neath  a  mimosa's  shade, 

Amid  the  verdure  with  bright  blossoms  spread, 

Where  over-arching  vines  with  blooms  o'er-run 

Tempered  the  brightness  of  a  tropic  sun. 

Reclined  the  figure  of  a  youth,  though  grown 

To   manhood's    stature.     Through    the    screen    o'er- 

thrown. 
Of  foliage  intertwined,  the  sunlight  crept. 
Bathing  his  brow  (as  motionless  he  slept), 
O'er  which  his  hair,  in  indolent  unrest. 
Moved  in  dark  clusters,  by  the  wind  caressed. 
A  flush  was  warmly  glowing  on  his  clieek 
As  soft  as  are  the  roseate  tints  that  screak 
The  summer  sky,  wi.en,  as  night's  curtains  close, 
On  twilight's  breast,  day  sinks  into  repose. 
And  there  was  stamped  upon  his  placid  face  ; 
Unbending  pride,  yet  tempered  with  a  grace 
Of  true  nobility,  whose  influence 
E'er  moulds  the  face  in  gentler  lineaments. 
Plain  were  his  features,  yet  enthroned  there. 
With  stateliness,  appeared  that  nameless  air 
Of  conscious  force,  —  the  reflex  of  a  mind 
Which  still  attracts  as  it  commands  mankind  ; 
The  superscription  of  that  power  that  sways 
The  world,  the  Mind,  —  that  prince  of  sovereignties  ! 


umUfOiataam^m 


PASCO.  19 

With  its  great  Premier,  governing  Reason,  throned, 

Controlling  worlds,  yet  by  no  power  bound. 

Its  consort  thought ;  the  eye  its  minister  ; 

The  universe  its  realm  ;  the  arbiter 

In  man  of  wew,  who,  envious,  then  behold 

Themselves  resistless  by  its  power  controlled, 

As  in  submission,  'ueath  its  master  spell. 

They  render  homage,  though  their  wills  rebel ! 

V. 

From  midnight  till  the  star  of  morn 

Paled  'neath  the  saffron  veil  of  dawn, 

Young  Pasco,  o'er  the  star-lit  wave,  •■ 

By  many  a  cape  and  island  cave,  '■ 

Full  many  a  league  along  the  shore 

Guided  his  boat  with  steady  oar. 

From  where,  within  a  cliff-bound  bay, 

A  band  of  Cuban  patriots  lay 

Close  *neath  a  friendly  mountain  wall 

Which  stretched  around,  impassable. 

There  in  the  fastness  of  the  mountain  height. 
Dreading  naught  else  save  the  betraying  night, 
His  patriot  comrades  waited  for  the  day 
When  once  again  their  hands  should  rend  away 
Another  thong  that  bound  their  bleeding  land, 
Wrenched  from  her  heart-strings  by  a  tyrant's  hand. 


N. 


20 


PASCO. 


i    ^    ! 


! 


Thou  stricken  isle !  how  long  shall  Slaughter  flood 
Thy  vales  of  beauty  with  the  patriots'  blood  ; 
How  long  still,  struggling,  must  thou  bleed,  nor  find 
One  hand  of  mercy  thy  red  wounds  to  bind  ? 
Weakest  yet  braver  than  the  strongest  all, 
Must  Freedom's  fairest  child  unheeded  call, 
Nor  to  the  accents  of  her  anguished  cry 
Gain  but  the  echo  of  their  agony  ! 

Thou  guardian  Genius  of  the  patriot  brave  I 

Hear  thou  thy  sons  —  still  thine  the  power  to  save  — 

Who  to  thee  turn,  scourged  in  their  native  land 

For  "Freedom's  cause  by  an  Aggressor's  hand. 

Hear  thou  thy  sons  who  nobly  there  defy 

Thy  bitterest  foe.  Freedom's  arch-enemy  ; 

That  chief  of  despots  whose  long  history  reads 

But  a  record  of  persecution's  deeds. 

Who  now  oppressing  that  unhappy  clime 

Would  there  proscribe  e'en  liberty  a  crime  — 

That  gift  divine  —  hereditary  right, 

From  mankind  stolen  in  oppression's  night ! 

Withhold  no  longer  thine  avenging  sword ; 

Nay,  they  are  free,  if  thou  but  speak'st  the  word, 

That  word  unsaid,  lo,  each  returning  day 

Beholds  them  pierced  afresh  by  tyranny  ! 

Stay  in  their  deadly  course  the  wreaking  blade 

And  kindling  brand,  by  fell  destruction  swayed,       i 

Which  o'er  that  land  where  all  's  so  wondrous  fair 

Spread  blackened  desolation  and  despair, 


PASCO. 


at 


Till  there  where  once  arose  the  voice  of  joy, 
Alone  now  heard  the  wail  of  misery. 

A  Nemesis  arise,  clothed  in  thy  might. 
With  justice  armed,  thy  countenance  alight 
With  righteous  vengeance,  so  shall  tyranny 
Before  thy  face  in  terror  shrink  away. 
As  to  its  lair  the  preying  beast  of  night. 
When  o'er  the  mountain  beams  the  morning  light ! 

/■' 
See,  'mid  the  verdure  of  his  native  glade, 
Attacked  by  panther,  from  its  ambush  strayed. 
The  noble  stag,  just  struggling  to  his  feet, 
Defiantly  fronts  his  pursuer's  hate. 
Now  on  his  foe  impetuously  he  flies, 
A  desperate  courage  flashing  from  his  eyes  ; 
The  beast  recoils,  then  with  a  fierce  rebound 
Springs  at  its  victim ;  half  borne  to  the  ground 
His  antlers  stout  receive  his  savage  foe : 
With  cry  half  pain,  half  hate,  oack  crouching  low. 
Yet  once  again  behold  him  full  at  bay, 
Dauntless  — 

Till  now  his  panting  breaths  betray 
His  sinking  frame,  which  scarce  may  long  sustain, 
The  brave,  proud  spirit  which  it  bears  within. 
See  on  the  jaws  of  his  fierce  assailant 
The  scarlet  life,  in  savage  cunning  rent 
From  his  torn  limbs  that  know  no  soothing  balm 
Save  the  soft  currents  of  his  life-blood  warm  ; 


■■ 


22 


PASCO. 


Yet  not  alone  his  flows  :  mark  the  red  dye 
His  antlers  bear,  drawn  from  his  enemy  1 

Lo,  Cuba  thus  confronts  Hispania  still, 
With  courage  not  her  fiercest  shocks  can  kill, 
Though  stricken  bleeding  — 

Thou  America ! 
Strong  as  thou  art,  and  pledged  to  Liberty, 
Thus  at  thy  gates  shall  stranger  masters  slave 
Thy  sister  —  loveliest  child  that  Nature  gave ! 
Thy  freedom  viewed,  she  in  thy  steps  would  tread, 
Yet  stones  thou  giv'st  her  where  she  asks  but  bread. 
Nay,  while  her  cries  now  smite  thy  sluggard  ear, 
Cries  thou  know'st  well,  for  once  thine  own  they  were. 
While  in  her  flesh,  all  quivering,  deeper  gnaw 
Beneath  thine  eyes,  the  chains  her  enslavers  draw, 
Wilt  thou,  O  mother !  —  Canst  thou  close  thy  heart  ? 
Must  thus  the  prestige  of  thy  name  depart  ? 

And  thou  Britannia,  foremost  thou  to  lead 

When  Justice  points  where  Freedom's  children  bleed. 

Thou,  whose  bright  'scutcheon  —  like  the  orb  of  day 

In  circling  course  its  life  diffusing  ray  — 

Around  the  earth  flashes  the  grander  light 

Of  Freedom's  Sun  —  in  thy  domain  how  bright, 

With  thy  brave  offspring  —  "  first  in  peace,  in  war," 

Let  it  be  thiiic  that  glory  now  to  share 

Which  crowns  the  brow  of  those  who  strike  away 

From  patriot  sons  the  chains  of  tyranny  ! 


PASCO. 


23 


Young  Pasco,  boldest  of  the  brave, 

Feared  not  the  wildness  of  the  wave  ; 

To  him  the  night  wind  o'er  the  sea 

Was  but  a  voice  of  melody ; 

its  tossing  waves  —  his  heart  more  free  — 

Were  but  a  thing  of  ecstasy 

In  which  his  boundless  thoughts  but  found 

Companions,  their  impatient  sound 

Reflecting  in  their  wild  unrest, 

Love's  fevered  pulses  in  his  breast ; 

And  so  he  welcomed  with  delight 

These  restless  spirits  of  the  night. 

Naught  did  he  fear,  for  to  the  heart 

That  knows  the  strength  love's  throbs  impart 

A  strength  in  dangers  stronger  proving 

That  stand  betwixt  desire  and  loving  — 

There  is  no  peril  which  can  fright 

On  surging  wave  or  mountain  height. 

While  depths  of  all-sufficing  bliss 

Wait  its  reward  in  love's  embrace  I 

Now,  as  the  dying  shades  of  night 

Fled  silently  before  the  light 

Of  coming  day,  his  light  caique 

Was  moored  within  an  island  creek. 

Soon  reached  the  scene  he  knew  so  well, 

Made  sacred  by  the  last  farewell 

Which  he  had  kissed  from  lips  that  thrilled 

His  quickening  pulse,  though  parting  chilled 


; 


Ef 


24  PASCO. 

His  anxious  heart,  —  for  love  e'er  dreads 
The  cloud  a  lowering  future  spreads, 
Though  o'er  the  star  of  hope  may  gleam 
With  bright  albeit  uncertain  beam, 
A  brightness  which  its  spirit  fears 
Reflected  in  a  woman's  tears. 

Fatigued,  now  'neath  a  shade  reclined 
He  sought  a  while  of  rest  to  find, 
Before  the  fast  returning  day 
Should  bring  the  hour  that  should  repay 
Love's  willing  toil.     Soon  kindly  sleep 
His  eyelids  closed,  as  the  calmed  deep. 
Just  'neath  the  hill  whereon  he  lay. 
Low  whispering  of  tranquillity. 
Soothed  weariness  to  sweetest  rest, 
While  Fancy,  for  Love,  fondly  traced. 
In  dream-tints,  scenes  where  only  joy 
Admitted,  bore  love  company ! 

VI.      ' 

/  As  in  the  loadstone  dwells  a  vital  force 
i    We  may  not  trace  to  its  mysterious  source, 
j  Which  seeks  its  consort,  the  responding  steel, 
1  And  to  it  clings,  nor  why  does  it  reveal, 

Th'  effect  we  mark ;  —  the  Cause  ?  there  dies  the  light, 
\  And  Wonder  pauses  on  the  verge  of  night,    , 
While  all  the  cunning  of  philosophies 
Ends  in  the  simple  knowledge  that  it  is  I 


PASCO. 

E'en  thus  in  love  a  nameless  power  lies, 
Attracting  still  its  own  affinities, 
Beneath  which  force  the  heart  responsive  moves 
Love's  willing  footstep  toward  the  soul  it  loves  : 
The  will  obeys,  —  and  why  it  cannot  tell, 
Yielding  unconscious  to  that  mystic  spell, 
In  spirit-vision  which  outwings  the  sight, 
Pursued  by  thought  in  its  mysterious  flight. 


Thus  oft  there  dawns  a  seeming  consciousness  : 

Thought's  dimmest  taper  glimmering  faint  and 
low. 
When   near  us   throbs   the   heart  our   own   would 
bless, 

Feeling  ere  yet  its  presence  we  may  know  : 
Still 't  is  not  felt,  —  this  intercourse  of  souls ; 

Unknown  its  workings  to  the  mists  of  sense, 
And  yet  the  will  its  magic  force  controls. 

Which  yields,  unconscious,  to  its  influence. 


Now,  as  she  wandered  'neath  the  verdant  shades 
Which  round  her  island  home  luxuriant  pressed. 

As  from  the  lake  she  sought  their  quiet  glades, 
Dreaming  of  one  whose  image  filled  her  breast, 

Did  Lulu  feel  this  influence  which  invades 
The  realm  of  thought,  with  pulses  to  invest 

Those  cords  magnetic  which  two  hearts  unite :  — 

A  bond  too  hallowed  for  the  sensual  sight.     *" 
2 


26 


PASCO. 


I 


' 


And  thus  impelled,  unconsciously  she  sought 
The  floral  shade  where  Pasco  sleeping  lay, 

Wondering  the  while  if  life  could  offer  aught 
And  Pasco  gone  ;  and  then  in  ecstasy 

Transfixed  she  stood,  as  quick  that  saddening  thought, 
Darkening  her  eyes,  faded  in  tears  of  joy  :  — 

And  oh  how  bright  beamed  her  all-lustrous  eyes 

'Neath  that  one  cloud,  flashing  love's  sympathies. 

"  My  Pasco  !  "  —  and  her  voice  sank  sweetly  lower 
From  the  first  pulse  of  love's  temerity. 

Like  the  lone  nightingale's,  in  twilight's  hour. 
As,  when  disturbed,  its  warblings  die  away; 

And  flushed  her  cheek  as,  like  an  arching  flower, 
O'er  him  she  leaned  in  love's  expectancy. 

Pressing  her  heart  which  throbbed  all  envious, 

That  sleep  should  claim  a  moment  of  its  bliss. 


0  Love,  thou  sweet  enigma  of  the  soul ! 

Fearless  yet  fearful ;  all-seeing  yet  how  blind ; 
Omniscient  yet  thou  spurn'st  the  mild  control 

Of  thy  co-dweller  Reason.     Thus  combined, 
Opposing  forces  blend  a  marvellous  whole 

In  thy  mysterious  framework,  that  designed 
By  Goodness  infinite  that  from  its  height 
The  soul  might  glimpse  th'  Elysian  fields  of  light. 

E'en  as  to  thought,  to  sight  dost  thou  impart 
By  thy  mysterious  force  higher  virtue 


liplpi^ 


PASCO.  1 

Supernal,  giving  all  things  to  the  heart, 
By  vision  there  revealed,  an  aspect  new ; 

Clothed  in  new  beauty  all ;  beauty  no  art 
Hath  cunning  to  resolve,  while  that  we  knew 

Before  as  happiness,  to  thee  doth  seem 

But  like  the  baseless  fancies  of  a  dream ! 

Employs  which  once  no  joy  could  e'er  impart, 
Or  longings  waked  they  could  not  satisfy, 

'Neath  thy  sweet  force  awake  within  the  heart 
Thrcbbings  of  all-sufficiT)g  ecstasy. 

Heaven's  richest  dower  to  man ;  of  life  the  part 
Most  sacred ;  flame  of  immortality. 

Which  here  below  sheds  its  celestial  light. 

Without  which  life  were  lifeless,  day  were  night. 

No  longer  able  to  resist,  Lulu, 

Beside  him  seated  'mid  the  flowers,  now    . 
One  long  and  lingering  kiss  upon  his  brow 

Impassionately  pressed  ;  then  back  she  drew, 
As  fearing  love  too  bold,  while  a  warm  glow 

Suffused  her  cheek  ;  then  o'er  his  face  anew 
Her  own  she  leaned,  as  Pasco,  waking,  seemed 
As  if  he  doubted  if  he  lived  or  dreamed. 


"  Is  it  a  dream  ?     No,  no  !     No  dream  could  trace 
Such  wondrous  beauties  as  my  Lulu  grace ; 
No  vision  paint  an  image  half  so  fair 
As  thou,  my  idol,  —  and  thou  sought  me  here  ? 


i'  n  I 

11 


I 


: 


28 


PASCO. 


Thou  Beauty's  self! "     Then,  in  one  long  embrace 
Upon  his  breast  pillowed  her  lovely  face, 
In  speechless  joy  her  idoled  form  he  pressed 
Close  to  the  heart  that  trembled  in  his  breast. 

"  Not  here,  my  Pasco  —  everywhere  this  heart 
In  spirit-flight  hath  followed  where  thou  wert. 
At  morn  and  eve,  and  through  night's  visions  still 
The  paths  exploring  of  each  neighboring  hill, 
As  hope  still  promised  with  each  coming  day 
Thy  watched  return  —  how  oft  but  to  betray ; 
And  when  its  voice  with  less  assurance  came, 
While  busy  memory  ceaseless  called  thy  name, 
Love,  trembling,  sank  on  sorrow's  pallid  bret^st, 
And  there,  disconsolate,  sobbed  itself  to  rest. 
But  this  no  more ;  sorrow  shall  wait  on  joy, 
Which  must  alone  the  hours  row  employ 
With  thy  return,  thou  truant  wanderer ; 
And  first  account  thee  since  we  parted  here. 
Then  didst  thou  promise,  by  thine  own  true  heart. 
E'en  thus  :  '  But  for  a  little  time  we  part ; ' 
And  now  the  moon,  then  newborn,  hung  on  high. 
Full  thrice  hath  waned  along  the  summer  sky. 
And  see !  —  Why  thus  in  military  mien 
Art  thou  returned  ?     Where  hath  my  Pasco  been. 
That  thus  of  dress,  as  for  some  carnival, 
Absence  hath  been  so  strangely  prodigal  ?      / 
'T  is  sure  thy  humor,  —  yet  thy  pensive  eye 
Scarce  seems  to  bear  such  presence  company." 


PASCO. 


29 


**  Then  with  thine  own  softly  persuasive  eyes, 
Shall  they  but  bear  love's  happier  embassies  : 
E'en  as  thou  say'st :  *  sorrow  on  joy  shall  wait,' 
As  love  would  e'er  sorrow  anticipate 
Which  still  o'erbodes ;  while  't  is  but  joy  to  weigh 
In  love's  sweet  balance  sorrows  passed  away. 
Called  from  thy  side,  still  in  our  country's  cause. 
The  cause  of  justice  and  of  freedom's  laws 
Employed  each  hour,  —  too  brief  to  liberty, 
Yet  oh,  how  lengthened  distant  far  from  thee. 
WouM  't  were  not  mine  to  tell  thee  that  in  vain 
Our  land  still  struggles  'neath  oppression's  chain ; 
That  still  her  sons  must  strive,  nor  free  her  soil 
From  despots  who  her  of  rights  despoil. 
Come  now  the  hour  when  all  who  love  their  isle, 
As  hating  those  who  still  her  vales  defile, 
Must  strike  for  freedom,  nor  e'en  shrink  to  bear 
Its  standard  foremost  in  the  ranks  of  war." 


"  Thus  hast  thou  ever  nobly  borne  thy  part, 
Allegiance  sharing  but  with  this  fond  heart. 
My  Pasco,  till  of  all  thou  once  possessed  — 
All  save  thy  life,  in  this  art  thou  divest." 
"  That  gift  alone  is  worthy  Freedom's  cause,  - 
Her  sword  reproachful  till  each  patriot  draws. 
And  if  but  ventured,  on  that  hazard  cast, 
Rich  the  reward,  if  that  loved  cause  at  last 


II 


III 


I 


i 


30 


PASCO. 


Triumphant  stands  ;  and  if  this  may  not  be, 

Better  to  die  than  live  for  tyranny. 

But  of  thyself:  first  would  I  hear  thee  tell 

The  time's  record  wiiich  thou  hast  marked  so  well 

By  the  chaste  moon,  which  now  thy  constancy 

Shall  ever  witness,  near  or  far  from  thee." 

Then  were  recalled  those  hours  of  bitterness 

When  hope  beamed  low,  those  tremblings  of  distress 

Which  rend  the  heart  when  separation  flings        ♦ 

Dark,  chilling  shadows  from  its  sombre  wings. 

Each  day  remembered  with  its  train  of  fears  ; 

Patience  grown  weary,  faith  subdued  to  tears. 

Fond  expectation  at  the  morning  light 

Waking  in  smiles,  in  tears  ere  came  the  night. 

While  morn  and  night  hope  watched  unwearyingly. 

Soothing  the  pain  of  love's  despondency. 

Now  in  the  brightness  of  joy's  warmthful  ray 

Dissolved  in  light,  each  shadow  passed  away. 

As  'neath  the  sun  the  mists  of  morning  fade 

Which  ere  the  dawn,  earth's  slumbering  beauty  shade. 


* 


# 


The  hours  had  sped,  —  how  swiftly  do  they  fly, 
Unmarked  by  thought  in  love's  sweet  company,  — 
Till  now  they  led  past  the  meridian  height 
In  robes  of  gold-edged  fleece  the  god  of  light. 
Though  marked  the  hour,  yet  still  did  Pasco  fear 
.   >  ii)  pe  and  love-expectant  to  declare 


PASCO. 


31 


Honor's  last  act,  for  well  he  knew  that  this 

Quick  must  consign  sweet  joy  to  bitterness. 

But  now,  'neath  Time's  injunction,  in  his  heart 

The  pain  that  soon  —  fore'er  perhaps,  they  must  part, 

For  utterance  pressed,  as  thus  again  to  thought 

Memory  recalled  his  grief,  in  joy  forgot. 

Then  as  some  cloud  which  'neath  the  moon's  pure  light 

Suffused  with  brightness,  decks  the  brow  of  night, 

"When  swept  away  by  spirit  winds,  that  sigh 

Their  weird  lamentings  through  the  silent  sky. 

To  darkness  fades,  thus  borne  from  its  bright  sphere 

Into  the  regions  of  the  nether  air. 

Shadowing  o'er  the  watching  stars,  but  now 

Beaming  in  beauty  on  their  silvery  brow. 

So  the  glad  light  which  shone  in  Pasco's  face, 

Reflected  from  love's  fervent  happiness. 

Faded  away  as  now  within  his  breast 

Griefs  gathering  mists  their  chilling  darkness  pressed, 

And  spread  a  shade  of  anguish  o'er  his  brow 

Which  beamed  so  bright  with  happiness  but  now. 


But  quick  his  heart  again  forbade  that  this 
Should  shadow  o'er  his  star  of  loveliness. 
As  it  recalled  the  cloud  which  thought  had  thrown 
Across  his  face,  —  yet  ere  't  was  whcly  gone, 
Her  upturned  eyes,  then  fixed  upon  his  own. 
With  love's  perception  marked  that  shadow  fade. 
Which  to  her  own  his  troubled  heart  betrayed. 


82 


PASCO. 


Then  thus  she  spoke :  "  My  Pasco,  must  I  trace 

One  line  of  sadness  falling  o'er  thy  face, 

Nor  know  the  sorrows  which  thy  heart  invade. 

And  thus  the  brightness  of  thine  eyes  o'ershade  ? 

Must  love  with  love  share  naught  but  happiness, 

Nor  make  its  own  the  sorrows  that  oppress 

The  heart  which  yields  the  only  joy  it  knows, 

From  which  the  essence  of  its  being  flows  ? 

Nay,  thus  to  share  thy  sorrows  but  shall  be 

To  add  to  love  a  keener  ecstasy ; 

Nor  deem  thy  voice  one  accent  e'er  can  tell 

To  pain  this  bosom  —  lest  it  hefai'ewellf 

For  still  with  thee  this  heart  can  know  no  pain, 

And  welcome  sorrow  when  we  part  again." 


While  thus  she  spoke  proud  adoration  filled 
His  throbbing  heart,  with  quickening  pulses  thrilled, 
As  in  his  eyes  rose  those  all  holier  fires 
Which  pure  affection  in  the  breast  inspires, 
While  thus  devotion  in  her  heart  displayed 
New  springs  of  goodness  ne'er  before  betrayed, 
From  which  sweet  Faith  with  gracious  hand  sup- 
plied 
Entrancing  draughts,  thus  doubly  sanctified. 
But  when  of  parting  her  loved  accents  spoke. 
From  his  sweet  dream  of  happiness  he  woke. 
And  in  his  heart,  as  falls  a  funeral  knell. 
Broke  the  dread  portence  of  that  word,  farewell. 


PASCO. 


33 


Across  his  face  anew  pain's  shadow  crept, 
While  in  his  eyes  their  wonted  brightness  slept, 
As  sorrow-filled  they  sought  the  neighboring  sea, 
In  deep  unquiet,  as  he  made  reply. 


Then  thus  he  spoke :  "  My  Lulu,  could'st  thou  see 

Within  my  heart  its  weight  of  agony, 

That  from  thy  side  a  voice  all  must  obey  — 

Liberty's  death-cry,  summons  me  away. 

Would  love  dare  hide  what  honor's  act  hath  done 

From  thee  e'en  still  my  own,  my  lovely  one, 

That  for  thy  sake  no  slightest  cloud  should  lower 

To  cast  one  shadow  in  this  longed  for  hour. 

Whence  now  I  come,  beset  by  tyrant  hate, 

Gathered,  our  brothers  for  the  struggle  wait ; 

Wait  till  our  Cuba's  foes  again  shall  know 

Not  unavenged  her  children's  blood  shall  flow. 

For  though  on  Freedom  treads  the  Oppressor's  heel. 

Crushing  it  downward,  shall  the  tyrants  feel 

For   them  from   Freedom's  bleeding   wounds   shall 

flow 
A  poison  deadlier  than  their  hate  can  know. 
Yes,  I  have  dared  enlist  for  liberty 
The  life  which  love  consecrated  to  thee, 
'Neath  whose  promptings  returned  to  thee,  I  bear 
My  anxious  heart,  which  asks  thine  own  to  share 
Its  sacrifice,  —  the  strength  of  love  alone 
Love's  faltering  purpose  can  sustain,  sweet  One. 


I 


i: 


34 


PASCO. 


The  midnight  passed  unknown  the  shades  of  fate, 
For  thee  my  heart  with  longing  pulses  beat, 
Whose  sweet  assurance  should  impart  new  life 
To  brave  the  perils  of  th'  impending  strife. 
Then,  though  't  was  death,  for  thee,  my  loveliness, 
Scaling  the  rocks  which  wall  the  mountain  pass 
Where  lie  our  band,  I  sought  the  neighboring  sea, 
Whose  friendly  billows  bore  me  safe  to  thee." 
She  heard  ;  yet  dared  not  trust  her  tongue  t'  impart 
The  cry  of  sorrow  echoing  in  her  heart. 
As  motionless  she  clung  to  his  embrace,  — 
Save  that  along  her  frame  her  wild  distress 
A  tremor  sent,  the  coldness  of  despair 
Within  her  heart,  which  now  was  chilling  there. 
"  And  it  is  thus  —  ?  "     Then  shut  within  her  breast. 
By  sorrow  prisoned,  her  sad  accents  ceased, 
As  on  his  breast  she  sank,  —  a  drooping  flower, 
Voiceless  beneJith  that  grief  which  hath  but  power 
To  /eel,  and  in  its  night  of  woe  to  see 
But  the  dark  image  of  its  agony  ! 
"  Nay  let  not  tears  bedim  thy  lustrous  eyes. 
Nor  cloud  of  sorrow  o'er  thy  beauty  rise. 
For  though  night  lowers  it  must  pass  away, 
And  oh,  what  brightness  waits  returning  day 
Before  the  sunlight  melts  along  the  main 
Its  waves  must  bear  me  to  our  band  again. 
While  hope  shall  guard  love's  consecrated  shrine,  . 
Which  sacred  charge  to  it  must  love  resign." 


PASCO. 


35 


"  To  hope,"  she  sobbed,  "  to  hope^  whose  changeful  ray, 

Ever  receding,  beams  but  to  betray, 

While  still  with  light  delusive  it  illumes 

The  mists  of  sorrow  which  it  ne'er  consumes. 

But  no  "  (and  now  in  calmer  voice  she  spoke. 

Though  from  her  breast  its  anguished  pulses  broke 

In  trembling  utterance),  "  no,  our  country's  need 

Must  not  unanswered  to  her  children  plead  ; 

And  shall  her  daughters  from  that  cup  once  shrink 

Which  to  its  dregs  her  sons  so  proudly  drink  ? 

Go  thou,  my  Pasco,  though  each  hour  shall  knell 

Its  wail  of  sorrow  from  this  sad  farewell, 

And  night  returning  in  each  breath  shall  sigh 

The  weary  reckoning  of  recurring  day 

Till  thy  return.     O  God,  should  this  be  not !  "  — 

And  hope  shrank,  trembling,  from  that  direful  thought. 

As  one  wild  burst  of  anguish  swept  her  breast, 

And  choked  its  pulses,  trembling  into  rest. 

Amid  the  flowers  he  laid  her  form,  and  now 

Smoothed  the  dark  tresses  from  her  pallid  brow, 

And  with  warm  kisses,  as  o'er  her  he  kneeled, 

Sought  to  restore  the  life  which  pain  congealed, 

And  through  their  channels  from  her  heart  to  bear 

The  chilling  currents  which  were  crowding  there ! 

A  spirit-tenderness  sought  her  sweet  face. 

Soothing  each  line  to  placid  loveliness  ; 

A  beatific  calm,  like  that  in  death 

Which  still  reflects,  though  ceased  fore'er  the  breath. 


I 


86 


PASCO. 


The  soul's  last,  sweetest  smile,  serenely  spread 
O'er  th*  all  but  living  features  of  the  dead. 
Now  raised  her  eyelids,  fringed  in  mourning  hue, 
Where  tears  were  trembling,  as  the  early  dew 
Trembles  in  beauty  'neath  tlie  paling  night. 
Ere  well  the  sun  dissolves  it  into  light. 
On  him,  half  wondering,  fixed  her  saddened  eyes, 
Where  resignation  draped  love's  sympathies, 
Which  there  were  gathered,  with  her  sable  shade. 
For  hope  deep  in  the  heart's  sepulchre  laid. 

As  in  his  arms  he  raised  her  to  his  side, 

Around  his  neck  her  own  were  fondly  laid, 

While  that  pure  tribute,  love's  chaste  throbbings  yield. 

Upon  his  lips  in  lingering  fear  was  sealed. 

"  Farewell,  my  Lulu,"  and  his  voice  betrayed 

The  deep  emotion  which  his  bosom  swayed  ; 

"  Farewell ;  the  night  must  to  my  comrades  prove 

That  Pasco's  honor  's  stronger  than  his  love. 

And  shame  the  fear  which  stings  my  thought  to  view. 

That  to  his  country  Pasco  is  untrue." 


One  kiss — another  — 

Now  alone  she  stood 
Amid  the  shades  of  griefs  dread  solitude. 
While  in  her  heart,  else  lifeless,  echoed  o'er 
Love's  anguished  accents  :  "  lost  for  evermore." 


PASCO. 


37 


(  VII. 

The  moon  high  o'er  El  Cobre's  sombre  height 

Dispelled  the  shades  of  the  unwelcome  night, 

Flooding  the  vale  and  towering  mountain  side 

In  silvery  light.     Adown  the  valley  gleamed 

In  gentle  curves,  the  river's  wandering  tide, 

Till  gliding  'twixt  a  chasmed  rock  it  seemed 

To  seek  repose  'neath  the  o'ershadowing  height, — 

Whose  frowning  brow  repelled  the  soft  moonlight,  — 

As  some  great  serpent  winds  its  weary  length 

Into  the  darkness  of  the  cavern's  strength. 

Weird,  ominous,  like  dread  Plutonian  shades. 

High  up  the  mount,  o'er-glooming  crag  and  pass 

Ranged  the  dark  pines,  which  the  bright,  starry  hosts 

^Sen trying  the  night  seemed  watching  tremulous ! 

No  sound  disturbed  the  stillness  save  the  cry 

Of  the  lone  night-bird,  calling  plaintively, 

With  the  soft  voice,  communing  with  the  night, 

Of  falling  water,  white  in  the  moonlight, 

Which  from  the  mountain  sought  the  river's  breast. 

And  with  it  mingling,  hushed  itself  to  rest. 

Far  up  the  height,  along  a  mountain  pass, 

Skirting  the  brink  of  measureless  abyss. 

Now  and  anon  gleamed,  'gainst  the  darkened  height 

Of  rock  o'ertowering,  the  portentous  light 

Of  glist'ning  steel,  whose  momentary  gleams 

Chilled  the  soft  whiteness  of  the  moon's  pale  beams. 


mam 


mf 


38 


PASCO. 


There  on  the  height  repose  the  patriots  sought, 

Slumbering  upon  their  arms,  yet  wakeful  caught 

The  voice  which  told  another  hour  had  gone 

That  cunning  Time  from  friendly  Night  had  won, 

As  in  the  mount's  defile  the  sentinel 

In  cautious  utterance  said,  "  Men  all  is  well," 

Then  quick  again  upon  the  pass  he  stood, 

Courting  its  shades,  as  the  calm  solitude 

Of  vale  and  pass  he  watched  with  jealous  care,  — 

Ah  !  who  could  dream  that  death  was  lurking  there  ? 


« 


VIII. 

"  And  dost  thou  think  the  rebel  watch  can  sight 
From   where   thou   say'st   they   hold  yon    mountain 

height. 
The  stream  below,  where  shades  its  breath  half  o'er 
Yon  darkening  cliff?    There  may  the  farther  shore 
Alone  be  reached  :  too  deep  the  river's  bed 
Here,   where   concealed    these  friendly   shades   o'er- 

spread, 
.  To  ford  its  depths  :  —  and  well  I  deem  't  is  meed 
If  men  must  die,  't  is  nobler  that  they  bleed  ; 
Then  if  our  foes  like  they  of  Yard's  fight, 
None  may  be  spared  who  strive  for  Spain  to-night. 
But  there  we  cross,  —  and  thou  canst  lead  us  on, 
As  thou  hast  said,  and  by  a  path  unknown  ?  " 


PASCO. 


39 


"  I  can,  my  chief ;  within  a  cave  it  ends,  <^ 

And  thence  the  path  through  narrow  gorge  ascends 

To  a  defile  where  lie  the  rebel  crew  — 

The  pass  is  sure  —  the  rest  an  hour  must  show  !  " 

"  Thou  speakest  well.     Soldiers,"  turning,  he  said,  — 

The  dark  battalion  there  beneath  the  shade 

Stood  motionless,  — 

"The  enemies  of  Spain 
Keep  yonder  height,  fnor  dream  ere  night  shall  wane 
The  rocks  that  now  their  rebel  slumbers  keep 
Loud  shall  reecho  with  their  own  death-shriek. 
We  cross  below  where  yonder  rock  o'ershades  ; 
Look  to  your  arms ;  guard  well  no  naked  blades 
A  warning  bear  to  traitor  eyes,  for  know 
But  to  their  hearts  such  messengers  should  go." 
Then  to  the  guide :  "  Pepillo,  lead  the  way  ; 
Now  steady  —  March  !  "    The  column  moved  away 
Along  the  stream,  and  silently  it  trod 
With  measured  cadence  o'er  the  yielding  sod. 
Soon  reached  the  ford,  they  halted.     "  Pepillo, 
Scan  well  the  height  —  say,  canst  thou  see  the  foe  ?  " 
"  Look  thou,  my   chief,   see'st  thou   that  gleam  of 

light  ? 
Wait  but  a  moment  —  now  upon  the  height 
Above  the  fall  ? " 

"  Aye,  there  —  but  now  *t  is  gone  "  — 
"  Lose  not  a  moment "  — 

"  Steady,  men,  as  one,      . 


PASCO. 


March!" 

In  they  moved.     Invaded  thus,  the  stream 
Plaintively  muttered,  as  in  some  strange  dream 
The  restless  slumberer. 

Soon  't  was  left  to  rest, 
And  scarce  a  ripple  trembled  on  its  breast. 
Traversed  the  plain,  'neath  the  disguising  wood 
Soon  at  the  mount  the  halted  column  stood. 
Once  more  was  scanned  with  stealthy  eyes  the  height ; 
Once  more  there  glimmered  that  betraying  light, 
As  the  clear  moon  illumined  the  pass,  till  now 
Veiled  by  the  shadows  from  the  cliff's  dark  brow. 
Beneath  the  shade  that  clothed  the  mountain  side 
The  chief  held  whispered  council  with  the  guide ; 
Then  at  their  head,  prepared  to  lead  the  band, 
He  silent  waited  for  the  chief's  command, 
Who  at  his  side  in  measured  whispers  said, 
While  all  stood  motionless  as  are  the  dead, 
**  Now  comrades,  softly  ;  muffle  e'en  your  breath, 
Nor  let  your  footsteps  prate  of  coming  death. 
When  reached  the  cave,  by  fours  close  column  keep ; 
Thence  scarce  ten  paces  where  the  rebels  sleep, 
Where  once  again  must  traitors'  bosoms  feel 
The  deadly  coldness  of  the  Spaniards'  steel." 


PASCO. 


41 


'  IX. 

Up-long  the  orient  sky  the  day, 

In  morning  robes  of  sombre  gray, 

Crept  on  apace,  as  Pasco  stood 

In  turn  to  guard  the  solitude 

Of  the  defile  and  vale  below. 

Which  now  the  moon  —  suspended  low. 

With  shadows  thronged,  that  lengthening  loomed 

Along  the  glen,  slow,  weirdly. 

Like  shades  of  Titan  forms  away 

From  their  tombs  summoned,  —  on  earth  doomed 

To  silence,  gathering  dark-plumed  there, 

As  if  the  dying  night  to  bear 

To  its  mysterious  sepulchre ! 


Beneath  the  soothing  breath  of  morn 

His  comrades,  all  fatigued  and  worn 

By  hours  of  wearying,  restless  sleep. 

Now  lay,  o'ercome,  in  slumber  deep,  — 

Like  that  which  soothes  the  feeble  breast 

When  fever's  crazing  pulse  is  passed, 

And  motionless  composure  gives. 

With  scarce  a  throb  to  tell  it  lives. 

Yet  wakeful  o'er  each  weary  breast 

One  thought  guarded  the  patriots'  rest : 

Ah,  but  for  this  it  had  been  mad 

To  trust  to  slumber  all  they  had 
3 


is-  ! 


42 


PASCO. 


it  I 

fe?M 


In  hope,  —  from  Freedom's  beckoning  star 
Which  brightly  beamed,  though  distant  far ! 
That  thought  their  land,  which  to  such  hearts 
A  deathless,  double  life  imparts. 
An  hour  had  passed,  and  Pasco  stept 
Within  the  pass  to  where  still  slept 
His  comrades,  though  their  eyelids  lay 
Just  bound  by  sleep's  sweet  mystery. 
He  turned  the  cliff — 

Then  forward  sprang, 
As  on  the  startled  silence  rang, 
Rebounding  with  a  hundred  shocks 
From  peak  to  peak  of  towering  rocks. 
His  carbine's  crash  —  the  signal  set 
Should  night  unmask  her  dread  alarms, 
And  they  surprised,  by  foes  beset. 
No  moment  find  to  call  to  arms  — 
For  springing  from  a  neighboring  height. 
With  bayonets  glimmering  in  the  light 
Of  early  dawn,  he  there  beheld 
The  hated  foe,  —  as  wildly  swelled 
Those  frenzying  pulses  in  hir  breast 
Those  feel  by  tyranny  oppresaed. 
Which  know  no  wilder  throb  of  hate 
Than  that  when  face  to  face  they  meet 
Their  Despot's  slaves,  who  crav'n  would  dare 
To  bind  them  with  the  chains  they  wear  ! 


PASCO. 


43 


Quick  as  his  thought  his  lead  as  true, 

Struck  from  the  cliff  a  foeman  low  ; 

Nor  had  the  signal  failed,  as  told 

A  crash  of  musketry  which  rolled, 

Reechoing  with  the  thunder's  might 

From  where  the  patriots  held  the  height, 

'Neath  which  above  the  crash  arose 

The  death-shriek  of  a  score  of  foes, 

Which  from  the  patriots  brought  a  cry 

Of  stern,  defiant  mockery. 

Then  quick,  in  fierce  reply,  out-rang,  i 

As  Pasco  'midst  his  comrades  sprang, 

A  volley  from  the  Spaniard  band. 

Now  closing  fast  on  every  hand. 

And  'neath  its  storm  of  iron  hail 

Full  many  a  noble  patriot  fell. 

Employing  still,  ere  hushed  by  death, 

The  accents  of  his  latest  breath 

In  Freedom's  name,  as  to  her  foes 

His  shout  of  proud  defiance  rose. 

As  rush  the  waves'  impetuous  might 

Against  the  clifTs  opposing  height, 

Their  foam-locks  streaming  in  the  storm. 

Each  like  some  fierce,  demoniac  form. 

On  sweeping  with  resistless  force 

The  strength  which  seeks  to  stay  their  course. 

Till  backward  hurled  in  turn  they  lie 

Low  quivering  in  their  parent  sea, 


44  PASCO. 

Again  to  rise  —  and  yet  again  ; 
As  oft'  flung  backward  to  the  main, 
Yet  shivering  as  they  fiercely  rush 
The  tottering  height  they  may  not  crush  ! 
So  now,  with  bayonets  set,  and  hair 
Bac"  /!.. : -jg  on  the  trembling  air, 
No  time  tor  aught  save  steel  now  left. 
Forward  the  island  patriots  swept, 
Led  on,  —  if  <^ught  the  brave  e'er  lead. 


By  Pa. 


ii*  at  their  head 


Their  coumT^'i  .'dg,  full  proud  to  give 

Th'^ir  lives,  that  i^*^.  ■  ?ired  cause  might  live. 

Fireii!  by  tie  ij /^dlv         teilns;  blood 

Which  swelled  each  piiiv,  •■i  frenzying  flood. 

Upon  the  hireling  foe  they  dashed 

Undaunted,  though  out-belching  flashed, 

Full  in  their  course,  a  withering  breath 

Of  flame,  red-tongued,  which  seethed  with  death. 

Mute  as  the  dead,  nor  stopped,  nor  stayed, 

With  fixed  eyes  and  jaws  close  laid  ; 

Each  springing  where  a  comrade  fell, 

There  summoned  by  his  last  death  yell. 

Breathing  that  atmosphere  of  hell ! 

Onward  they  swept  like  wave  on  rock, 

Till  now,  with  all  resistless  shock, 

Closing  upon  the  foe,  they  rushed  — 

Beneath  that  shock  recoiling,  crushed 

Down  —  down,  as  many  a  bosom  writhed 

Beneath  the  freezing  steel  there  sheathed  ; 


PASCO. 

Yet  lingered  not,  but  quick  once  more 
The  thirsty  metal  wreaked  in  gore, 
As  with  insatiate  greed  it  leaped, 
Still  dripping  scarlet,  doubly  steeped. 
From  breast  to  breast,  deep  curdling  there 
The  currents  stagnant  'neath  despair. 
Till  cleft,  the  arm  which  urged  it  fell 
Low  quivering  in  its  purple  rill  ! 


46 


High  swelled  the  frightful  din  of  war, 
The  wild  death-shriek ;  the  shivering  jar 
Of  splintering  steel ;  the  stifled  groan, 
Half  choked  ere  breathed  ;  the  fitful  moan 
From  life's  low  pulse ;  the  sabres*  shock 
Which  rose,  down  swept  to  fiercely  lock ; 
Nor  loosed  their  hold  till  rent  apart. 
Then  plunged  revengeful  in  each  heart, 
As  if,  imbued  with  very  life, 
Conscious  they  shared  their  master's  strife  ! 
Now  backward  forced,  scarce  half  remain. 
But  step  by  step  —  then  yet  again 
Fierce  dashing  on  the  staggered  foe, 
Each  laid  another  Spaniard  low. 
As  sinews  straining,  hand  to  hand. 
The  few  still  left  of  that  brave  band  — 
Pale  as  the  dead ;  each  forehead  set 
With  beads  of  cold,  congealed  sweat ; 


46  PASCO. 

While  from  their  breasts  down-trickling  rolled 
The  scarlet  gouts,  or  stream  that  told 
The  murderous  sabres'  mission  there, 
Red-gleaming  on  the  troubled  air  — 
Sprang  at  a  foe,  defiant  still, 
In  bate  which  death  alone  could  kill. 
Ah !  who  that  awful  shock  may  tell, 
When  waves  of  human  anger  swell 
In  fierce  contention ;  battling  where 
Meet  livid  hate  and  grim  despair ; 
Who  paint  that  hour  of  frenzied  strife 
When  passion  spares  not  —  ash  not  life ; 
Nor  deems  its  warmest,  softest  breath 
As  sweet  as  the  cold  gasp  of  death 
Forced  from  the  heart  where  still  the  steel 
It  presses  with  a  savage  zeal ! 

Beset  as  one  of  wolves  the  prey. 
Full  twenty  sabres  kept  at  bay. 
Back  forced,  contending  foot  by  foot ; 
Red-stained  from  many  a  streaming  cut, 
There  Pasco,  foremost  in  the  fray. 
Battled  the  foe  defiantly  ! 
Above  his  head  the  flag  he  held, 
One  arm  but  free  its  folds  to  shield. 
Which  wielded  with  resistless  might 
His  sabre,  —  busiest  in  the  fight. 


PASCO. 


47 


Struck  from  his  hands  the  colors  lay. 

Forward  he  dashed :  the  foe  gave  way, 

Save  one  more  bold  who  dared  contest 

His  way,  and  sought  from  him  to  wrest 

The  prize  regained,  but  all  in  vain  — 

One  more  was  numbered  with  the  slain ! 

Then  quick  again  he  waved  it  o'er, 

Its  folds  now  steeped  in  crimson  gore, 

As  up  his  height  he  proudly  drew, 

And  fearless  scoffed  the  hated  foe. 

But  the  fast  ebbing  scarlet  tide 

Down  coursing  from  his  breast  and  side. 

Had  sapped  his  life,  and  his  proud  cry 

Broke  in  a  gasp  of  agony  ! 

Then  on  their  victim  doomed  they  pressed  — 

Back  staggering,  till  by  deep  abyss. 

From  which  up-rose  a  doleful  roar, 

Like  that  from  waves  which  beat  the  shore, 

Far  distant  heard,  now  Pasco  stood 

Defiant  still  —  still  unsubdued. 

While  round  him,  eager  for  his  life. 

His  foes  fast  closed.     The  torrent's  strife, 

Deep  down  the  gorge,  he  heard,  and  knew 

It  swept  a  thousand  feet  below. 

Nor  aught  between  where  hope  could  trace 

For  Daring's  foot  a  refuge  place ! 

Then  the  first  fear  his  bosom  knew 

Cast  o'er  his  face  a  pallid  hue, 


N' 


Hi 


mi 


!.1.  ■■■ 

If.    I 


lu 


48  PASCO. 

As  there  now  mingling,  curdled  stood 
Out-starting  drops  of  sweat  and  blood. 
One  glance  quick  sought  the  foe-kept  pass ; 
Quick  one  the  yawning  precipice, 
Then  with  a  shout  of  proud  disdain, 
A  challenge  to  the  arms  of  Spain  ! 
He  turned  and  down  the  canon  leaped^ 
Still  grasped  the  flag  so  bravely  kept ; 
So  nobly  borne  in  life,  't  was  meet 
In  death  't  should  be  his  winding-sheet. 

X. 

The  struggle  o'er,  in  death's  embrace 

Each  patriot  soldier,  face  to  face 

There  with  his  foe,  sank  down  to  rest. 

Undrawn  the  steel  from  each  still  breast. 

The  sunbeams  there  that  morning  played 

On  many  a  shattered  sabre  blade, 

Still  grasped  —  with  strength  which,  yieldlessly, 

Surviving  life,  seemed  to  defy 

E'en  death  —  by  those  who,  now  laid  low 

Fore'er,  there  but  an  hour  ago 

Opposed  them  in  the  deadly  strife. 

Refusing,  as  they  spared  not  life  ! 

Still  now  the  scene,  which  but  before 

Reechoed  with  fierce  battle's  roar  ; 

And  mingling  there  together  flowed 

The  Patriots*  and  the  Spaniards*  blood. 


PASCO. 


49 


No  sign  of  life  was  seen  save  where 
The  vulture  soaring  high  in  air, 
Amid  the  sky's  ethereal  blue, 
Looked  down  upon  the  scene  below. 
As  they  had  fall'n  so  there  they  lay 
Till  time  should  hide  them  in  decay  ; 
Nor  lived  one  of  that  band  to  tell 
How  Cuba's  valiant  children  fell ! 


SPRING. 


AN    IDYL. 


j 


Si)        i 


"  Nature,  exerting  an  unwearying  power, 

Forms,  opens,  and  gives  scent  to  every  flower ; 
Spreads  ttie  fresti  verdure  of  the  fields  and  leads 
The  dancing  Naiads  through  the  dewy  meads." 


■  COWPKR. 


I. 

Hail  vernal  goddess  with  thy  floral  train  ! 

Nor  from  thy  praises  can  my  Muse  refrain, 

As  thou,  approaching  with  thy  bright-clad  throng, 

Awak'st  the  earth  to  merriment  and  song. 

With  loudest  praise  't  would  welcome  thee  again 

As  thy  swift  forces  drive  back  o'er  the  main 

With  shafts  of  sunlight,  from  the  blighted  earth. 

The  ice-shod  powers  of  the  frozen  North  ! 

It  would  thy  course  o'er  hill  and  mead  pursue. 

As  all  thou  deck'st  with  robes  of  richest  hue. 

And  strew'st  with   flowers   whose   countless    chalice 

blooms 
Upon  the  air  exhale  their  sweet  perfumes. 


SPRING.  51 

Beneath  bright  skies,  fresh-azured  from  thy  hand, 
Which  smiling  bend  t'  embrace  the  virgin  land, 
Adorned  by  thee,  now  kindly  mothef*  Earth 
Invites  a-field  her  children.     Health  and  Mirth, 
Laughter  and  Joy  respond  exultantly, 
And  join  thy  train  with  gayso'me  Jollity, 
While  on  glad  wing,  upon  thy  course  attend 
The  plumaged  choir  brought  from  the  summer-land. 


Close  in  thy  steps,  by  sportive  Frolic  led. 
The  gleeful  cortege  gambol  o'er  the  mead. 
While  songs  of  gladness  fill  the  scene  around, 
Which  hill  and  dale  harmoniously  rv  ound. 
Borne  by  the  swift-winged  Zephyrs  through  the  air. 
Till  Joy's  full  voice  reechoes  everywhere  ! 

II. 

All  beauteous  Spring  !  thou  darling  of  the  spheres, 
Before  whose  smile  shamed  Winter  disappears ; 
His  face  conceals  yet  lingers  to  survey 
The  gladd'ning  prospects  which  thou  dost  display. 
What  are  thy  charms  let  Nature's  self  declare 
To  those  who  doubting  to  her  courts  repair, 
Where  scenes  delightful  stretch  on  every  hand. 
When  thou  with  beauty  spreadst  the  smiling  land. 
Thy  glory  —  not  the  pageantry  of  kings, 
My  Muse  adoring  all  enraptured  sings ; 
Not  wealth's  vain  pomp,  which  partial  Fate  bestows 
Upon  the  few  to  mock  the  many's  woes  — 


52 


SPRING. 


!l 


I  \l 


!        I 


Sinking  its  slaves  in  luxuries  that  blind 
Till  man  becomes  unfaithful  to  mankind. 
Not  thus  with  thee-^:  with  bounty  prodigal, 
Impartially  thou  dost  dispense  to  all, 
Around  the  peasant  in  his  lowly  cot, 
Strewing  thy  gifts  where  princes  are  forgot, 
Nor  circumscribed  'mong  all  earth's  kind  appears 
The  meanest  being  but  thy  riches  shares  ! 

And  thus  thy  hands  e'en  o'er  the  "  unknown  "  dead. 
Richest  of  flowers  wih  lavish  kindness  spread. 
Whose  blossoms  laden  with  sweetest  perfume. 
Attest  thy  memory  of  the  silent  tomb. 
There  where  the  cherished  of  our  hearts  repose 
When  reached  that  bourne  where  life's  tired  footsteps 

close 
Beneath  o'er-bending  shades  they  brightly  bloom, 
Tinting  the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  tomb. 
By  thee  from  earth,  'neath  winter's  blight  there  laid. 
Raised  to  new  life  —  fit  emblems  of  the  dead, 
While  in  their  midst  hope-crowned  immortals  wave  — 
Telling  of  life  that  lies  beyond  the  grave ! 
There,  like  sweet  guardian  angels  they  appear, 
Pouring  rich  incense  on  the  hallowed  air. 
And  spirit-voiced,  in  language  love  may  know, 
Commune  with  us  of  those  who  sleep  below. 
While  their  pure  symbols  to  sad  memory  give 
The  sweet  assurance  that  they  ever  live. 


hi 


SPRING. 


53 


But  still  the  glories  of  thy  work  I  sing, 
O  ever  beauteous,  ever  friendly  Spring  I 
Amid  thy  scenes  delighted  still  I  stray, 
And  all  thy  charms  with  fondest  joy  survey. 

O'er  hill  and  dale  behold  the  forests  bare, 

The  foremost  subject  of  thy  generous  care. 

Outward  to  thee  stretching  their  naked  arms, 

Impatient  for  the  robes  and  floral  charms 

Thou  bring'st  them  —  their  shivering  limbs  long  bare 

To  hostile  winter's  rough  and  frigid  air  — 

With  verdue  clad,  they  stand  magnificent : 

Of  thy  great  work  the  grandest  monument ! 

III. 

As  the  fresh  Morn,  pluming  her  wings  of  light. 
Suffused  with  beauty  takes  her  joyous  flight 
From  the  blue  arch  that  holds  the  orient  sky, 
Which  her  bright  wings  with  roseate  tints  supply  : 
When  the  first  beams  of  the  approaching  day 
With  aureate  splendor  gild  earth,  sky,  and  sea,  — 
That  tranquil  hour  which  Contemplation  loves, 
When  Nature  from  her  dewy  slumber  moves,  — 
How  sweet  to  wander  o'er  the  smiling  fields. 
And  breathe  the  fragrance  Nature's  garden  yields. 
As,  one  by  one,  the  waking  songsters  raise 
From  hedge  and  branch  their  grateful  matin  lays, 
With  tuneful  brooks  and  music-whispering  trees. 
Greeting  the  morn  with  sweetest  symphonies. 


54 


SPRING. 


Now  crowning  all  in  the  delightful  scene, 
The  sun  with  gold  floods  earth's  imperial  green, 
When  on  the  view  come  forth  in  glorious  birth 
Unnumbered  flowers  decking  their  mother  earth, 
And  field  and  forest,  clad  in  radiant  light 
Stand  forth  all  beauteous  —  rapturing  the  sight, 
As  wakened  Nature  in  glad  concert  sings. 
By  warblers  led,  who  with  applauding  wings. 
Softly  accordant,  swell  the  praiseful  hymn 
Which  heavenward  rises,  incensed  by  perfume ! 

High  'mid  the  blue  the  lark  pours  his  glad  song. 

And  hurrying  by  the  swallow  skims  along, 

While  the  swift  lap-wing  as  she  upward  springs. 

Flashes  the  sunbeams  from  her  lightning  wings. 

The  faithful  redbreast,  first  of  all  the  year. 

Sings  to  its  mate  in  numbers  softly  clear. 

And  gives  good-morrow  to  the  whistling  thrush, 

Who  sends  her  greeting  from  a  neighboring  bush. 

Along  the  meads  brooks  babble  as  they  run, 

O'er  pebbles  iridescent  'neath  the  sun. 

With  smiles  for  every  flower  and  every  blade 

Which  their  glad  course  attend  through  wood  and  glade, 

Along  their  marge  the  clustering  cresses  grow 

Fringing  the  banks,  where  new-born  violets  blow. 

Whence  thick  a-field,  gilding  the  velvet  mead. 

The  regal  king-cups  their  gold  livery  spread. 

While  everywhere  o'er  field  and  woodland  sway 

In  balmy  breezes  the  sweet  flowers  of  May. 


SPRING. 


55 


Upon  some  mount  that  overlooks  the  mead, 

Reclined,  the  view  commanding  wood  and  glade, 

Whence  to  the  wood  the  freshly  verdured  ground 

In  graceful  undulations  spreads  around, 

How  rapturous  on  each  lovely  scene  to  dwell 

And,  yielding  to  sweet  Meditation's  spell. 

To  contemplate  Nature's  stupendous  scheme. 

Wondrous  creation  of  a  Power  Supreme  ! 

On  every  hand  some  lesson  man  may  learn. 

In  every  flower  some  sacred  truth  discern. 

In  beauty  shown,  fresh  from  the  source  of  all 

Given  to  man  by  wisdom  bountiful. 

View  'mid  sharp  thorns  the  rose  her  beauty  wears. 

E'en  as  the  thorn  the  sweetest  blossoms  bears ; 

Mark  the  meek  violet  and  the  giant  tree. 

Share  His  regard,  each  in  required  degree. 

All  eloquent.  His  high  munificence 

Proclaim,  and  show  impartial  Providence  ! 


M 


Thou  God  of  Life,  all -wise,  all-bountiful ! 

Eternal  One !  as  Thou  art  source  of  all 

The  riches  which  the  ladened  Seasons  bear 

To  fill  the  Earth  with  beauty  everywhere. 

The  power  —  the  glory  which  my  grateful  theme 

Would  celebrate  unto  Thy  Sacred  Name 

Alone  belong,  as  the  revolving  Spheres 

With  countless  tongues,  along  the  rolling  years. 

Ceaseless  proclaim !    Still  ever  be  it  mine 

To  swell  the  praises  of  Thy  Power  divine ; 


I 


mi 

is 


SQ 


SPRING. 


To  know  Thee  ever  as  Thou  dost  reveal 
Thyself  in  Nature,  where  "  Invisible  " 
Doth  name  Thee  not,  Almighty  One !  for  there 
In  love  and  power  configured  Thou  dost  appear ! 


it 


RETROSPECTION. 


A  ROMANCE. 


Once  more  by  the  old  window 

With  the  fragrant  eglantine, 
As  of  old  its  sweetness  breathing, 

Now  o'ergrown  with  columbine, 
Three  years  this  June  we  parted 

At  this  very  sunset  time  : 
I  scarce  can  realize  that  since 

I  've  been  in  many  a  clime, 
So  natural  the  dear  old  scene. 

For  though  the  years  since  gone 
Have  shown  me  many  beauteous  scenes. 

This  held  my  heart  alone. 
And  that 's  the  old-time  Ahenlied  so  loved, 

Which  now  you  play, 
Whose  voice,  like  some  sweet  spirit. 

Through  the  past  has  followed  me 


68 


RETROSPECTION. 


In  all  my  wanderings,  and  when  most  alone 

'T  was  sure  to  come, 
And  fill  me  with  deep  longings 

For  the  then  far  distant  home. 
Its  sad,  sweet  strain  recalls  to  me 

The  chant  of  vesper  bells 
Once  heard  upon  the  stillness 

From  a  Cloister's  wooded  hills, 
As  close  along  the  Spanish  coast 

One  summer's  eve  we  bore. 
When  all  was  silent  save  the  waves 

Heard  on  the  neighboring  shore. 
Now  heard  once  more,  here  at  your  side, 

Its  ne'er  forgotten  strain 
Awakes  sweet  recollections. 

Intermingling  joy  and  pain  — 
Throbbings  of  joy  that  sweetly  thrill, 

By  busy  Memory  brought, 
Then  sadly  tremble  into  rest, 

Struck  by  the  chill  of  thought, 
As  fast  on  recollection  comes 

Each  well  remembered  scene. 
Which  now  —  sweet  pictures  of  the  past !  — 

But  show  what  might  have  been. 
And  these  alone  remain  to  me 

Of  all  that  happy  time. 
In  the  heart's  darkened  chamber  hung. 

Draped  in  memoriam. 


RETROSPECTION. 

There  might  have  been  no  shadows,  — 

If  love  may  dare  surmise 
From  the  old  light  which  timidly 

Has  crept  into  your  eyes  ; 
The  same  that  kindled  in' my  heart 

The  fire  still  warming  there, 
Though,  like  watch-lamps  in  sepulchres, 

It  burns  in  lifeless  air, 
Pride-damped  beneath  those  words  which  passed 

Your  lips  unthinkingly 
That  fatal  day,  since  which  I  've  been 

A  wanderer  on  the  sea. 


59 


You  surely  loved  me,  May,  but  then. 

Ere  wealth  was  mine  —  the  prize 
I  sought  to  gain  the  greater,  — 

You  feared  the  sacrifice. 
For  you  could  not  renounce  for  me 

What  I  could  not  supply : 
That  luxury  which  you  enjoyed 

And  could  not  well  deny 
Yourself.     For  this  I  blame  you  not ; 

Man  has  no  right  to  claim 
Such  sacrifice  from  women, 

Though  they  make  them  all  the  same  ; 
And  though  now  fortune  has  removed 

That  barrier  aside, 
What  matters  it,  since  I  have  lost 

The  only  wealth  I  pride. 


60 


RETROSPECTION. 


'     11 


}■  i  . 


No,  not  for  that  I  blame  you, 

But  that  when  the  charm  dissolved, 
Ere  it  had  well  been  woven, 

That  your  will  again  involved 
My  love.     Ah,  you  remember  it, 

For  though  you  answer  not 
That  tear  now  trembling  on  your  cheek 

Shows  that  the  springs  of  thought 
Have  been  disturbed  by  memory. 

And  thus  o'erflowing  rise,  — 
And  what  a  lovely  channel 

Have  they  chosen  in  your  eyes. 
But  take  my  arm  and  let  us  stroll 

Along  the  old-time  way. 
This  may  be  the  last  meeting 

We  may  know  for  many  a  day, 
For  I  go  from  here  to-morrow, 

I  can  scarcely  tell  you  where, 
I  do  not  know  which  way  myself  — 

In  truth  I  little  care. 
But  I  dare  not  trust  my  heart  to  see 

Another  hold  its  shrine. 
Which  love,  denying  every  claim, 

E'en  now  would  not  resign. 
And  I  would  not  between  you  come,  — 

You  now  are  his,  and  so 
*T  is  better  for  forgetfulness,  —  for  all^ 

That  I  should  go. 


\ 


RETROSPECTION.  61 

'  -         *  • 

This  month  you  marry  him  ?  — 

Of  all  the  brightest  of  the  year, 
Which  must  with  each  summer's  return  • 

Its  shade  of  sadness  bear 
Hereafter,  for  't  will  wake  the  love 

I  now  must  bury  in 
My  heart,  here  where  it  first  was  born : 

Would  that  it  had  not  been, — 
For  better  far  that  ne'er  had  bloomed 

The  flower  affection  gave, 
Than  to  have  blossomed  but  to  deck. 

As  now,  affection's  grave. 


It  was  beside  this  gate  I  stood, 

Three  summers  now  ago, 
And  heard  you  play  that  melody, 

Which  since  I  've  cherished  so,  — 
The  day  I  met  you  —  then  my  love 

Woke  to  its  sweet  refrain. 
And  its  harmony  with  silver  chords 

Wove  round  my  heart  a  chain,    * 
Which  though  't  is  rent  asunder 

Recollection  now  displays, 
Its  scattered  links,  which  still  reflect 

The  scenes  of  happier  days  ; 
And  with  it  came  an  image. 

Then  enshrined  within  my  heart. 
Where  it  must  rest  until  the  grave 

Shall  claim  it  as  its  part. 


62 


RETROSPECTION. 


1 

I 


But  May,  farewell :  I  '11  leave  you  now. 

We  Ve  parted  often  here, 
And  this  will  make  it  easier 

For  both  of  us  to  bear  — 
Or  shall  I  see  you  to  the  porch  ?  — 

It  may  be  wiser  so, 
For  )  our  hand  is  trembling,  —  though  perhaps 

'T  is  better  finished  now. 
And  80  good-bye ;  the  agony 

Which  now  my  heart  endures, 
I  trust  in  all  the  years  to  come 

May  never  once  be  yours. 


How  like  lone-sorrowing  spirits, 

Sigh  the  trees  that  shade  the  dead, 
Here  in  the  quaint,  old  church-yard. 

In  summer's  last  tints  clad. 
Where  —  five  years  passed,  once  more  returned, 

I  look  out  on  the  sea, 
From  the  cedared  hill-side  where  she  sleeps 

Who  was  so  dear  to  me. 
The  waves  break  sadly  as  I  've  heard 

Them  break  in  many  a  clime  — 
Like  memories  which  unceasing  fall 

Along  the  shores  of  Time,  — 
And  the  droning  bee  hums  idly  by 

In  the  sultry  August  noon, 


RETROSPECTION. 


63 


Lingering  to  sip  from  weary  flowers 

Which  'ueath  the  still  heat  swoon. 
White-winged  a  solitary  ship, 

Far  out  upon  the  sea. 
Reflects  the  noon-day  sunlight, 

Soon  o'erclouded  ;  and  to  me 
This  seems  a  fitting  image 

Of  the  lot  I  bear  this  day : 
Alone  on  life's  broad  ocean, 

And  the  sunlight  passed  away. 
And  o'er  its  havenless  expanse 

My  bark  of  life  must  bear, 
O'ershadowed  by  those  memories 

Which  must  ever  darken  there. 


Thus  hope's  delusive  star  how  oft 

In  sorrow's  night  declines, 
And  to  dark  disappointment's  shades 

Our  happiness  consigns ; 
Yet  can  the  image  which  awoke 

That  hope  ne'er  fade  away  — 
Embalmed  in  the  heart's  sepulchre, 

From  "  feeling's  dull  decay." 


1i 

I; 


^ 


]i' 


MONODY 
ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON. 

'■'  That  marvellous  boy  that  perished  in  ttis  pride." 

Wordsworth. 


Inspire,  O  Muse,  the  sadcl'ning  theme  I  raise 
To  one  who  loved  thy  presence,  —  sang  thy  praise 
In  sweetest  voice  of  all  thy  minstrel  choir 
From  the  first  hour  his  fingers  swept  the  lyre 
Received  from  thee, —  its  dulcet  strings  supplied 
From  silver  in  that  fire  purified 
Which  in  the  temple  of  thy  sacred  hill, 
Though  now  but  smouldering,  warms  thy  altar  still. 
Inspire  my  theme :  a  theme  adorned  to  grace 
The  sweetest  song,  the  noblest  minstrel's  lays, 
To  one  whose  lyre,  so  rich  its  numbers  came, 
Shed  a  new  glory  on  thy  sacred  name. 
A  heaven-born  spirit  which  from  its  bright  sphere 
Wandering  to  earth,  lingered  a  little  here 
To  sing  the  songs  which  it  had  known  before 
With  kindred  spirits  on  th'  Elysian  shore,  — 


MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON.   65 

P2jirth's  tongue  in  their  celestial  harmonies 
Echoing  here  the  music  of  the  skies  ! 


Sweet  bard  !  how  bright  thy  sun  of  promise  rose, 

Yet  oh,  what  shadows  gathered  toward  the  close, 

And  ere  it  reached  the  height  of  life's  noon-day 

Fore'er  in  darkness  quenched  its  radiancy. 

How  bright  that  sun,  behold  where  passed  its  light 

A  ray  of  glory  illumines  death's  night, 

Yielding  a  beam  immortal  to  that  fire 

Which  on  Fame's  height  lights  Genius'  sacred  pyre. 

As  lesser  spheres  a  symmetry  do  show 

As  truly  perfect  as  the  greater,  so 

The  narrdwed  circle  of  thy  life  not  less 

Perfection  showed  for  its  littleness, 

Wherein,  like  the  planet  with  its  belt  of  light, 

Thy  star  of  Genius  blazed  along  the  height 

Of  Fame,  and  meteor-like,  though  soon  't  was  gone, 

Gave  forth  a  glory  there  before  unknown. 

Of  all  mankind  the  Muse  did  e'er  endow 

'T  was  thine  alone  mature  in  youth  to  know. 

"  The  gift  divine,"  wherein  thou  didst  display  — 

An  inspiration  but  revealed  in  thee, 

With  genius,  knowledge  ;  knowledge  e'en  earth's  Seers 

Amazed  beheld  —  to  all  the  work  of  years  !  * 

1  "  In  our  estimate  of  him  —  Chatterton  —  age  cannot  be  taken  into  ac- 
count ;  he  never  seems  to  hare  been  young,  his  intellect  was  born  fully  ma- 
ture' "  — Emoto. 


^V 


'Si 


li 


i 


66   MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON. 


;i 


Amid  the  quiet  of  primeval  woods, 

Where  the  sweet  voices  of  its  solitudes 

Contentment    breathed,   the   brook;    the    meek-faced 

flower, 
The  grateful  songster,  and,  in  night's  still  hour. 
The  stars  were  thy  sweet  loves,  still  sought  by  thee 
With  more  than  fondest  lover's  constancy, 
Drawn  to  their  chasteness  by  that  force  that  gives 
To  love  to  seek  its  own  correlatives. 
With  the  eternal  hills  :  the  great,  deep  sea 
Familiar  didst  thou  commune ;  they  to  thee 
Were  but  as  loved  companions.     With  dread  voice 
The  Tempest,  robed  in  night,  earth,  sea,  and  skies 
Stirring  to  strife  —  as  through  the  trembling  air, 
Hurling  its  bolts  it  swept,  its  course  the  glare 
Of  the  fierce  lightnings  'luming,  —  was  to  thee 
A  sight  which  gave  tliy  soul  supremacy 
Of  joy,  as  with  the  Storm-king's  awful  form 
Attendant  rode  thy  spirit  on  the  storm  ! 


Thy  faithful  heart,  —  e'en  as  the  clinging  vine 
Struck  by  the  worm,  around  its  loved  did  twine 
Its  richest  offerings,  yielding  sweetest  breath 
E'en  while  below  cankered  the  worm  of  death. 
Thy  love  its  rich  warm  soil ;  its  only  air 
Draughts  heavy  'neath  the  cold  mists  of  despair  ; 
Its  only  light,  hope's  distant,  dying  ray, 
A  spark  expiring  in  eternal  day  I 


MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON.   67 


Relentless  fate,  inexplicable  doom  ! 

Which  thus  consigned  thy  genius  to  the  tomb, 

And  swept  thy  hopes ;  thy  promise  richly  fair 

Into  the  grave  to  sleep  forever  there. 

Nor  let  thee  know  in  life's  resigning  breath 

The  kindred  voice  that  soothes  the  pain  of  death. 

Then  in  thy  mind  bright  scenes  forever  past, 

Upon  thy  soul  distracting  shadows  cast, 

To  make  thy  agony  but  deeper  grow, 

Till  thou  hadst  supped  the  very  dregs  of  woe. 

While  —  as  the  lightning's  momentary  flight 

Illumes  the  clouds,  encumbering  the  night, 

And  breaks  the  darkness  of  the  midnight  sky 

But  to  increase  its  black  intensity,  — 

Memories  of  home  within  thy  hapless  breast 

Flashed  through  despair's  thick  cloud  that  round  thee 

pressed, 
Which  in  their  brightness  served  but  to  illume 
And    how  how  dark  the  shadows  of  the  tomb, 
And,  passed  away,  in  thy  distracted  mind, 
Left  a  dread  darkness  doubly  black  behind. 


it 


m 

I' 


Insatiate  Pride  !  beneath  thy  direful  sway, 
Thou  scourge  of  earth,  thou  subtle  votary 
Of  Death  !  of  Genius  all  thou  mayst  o'ercome, 
How  oft  hath  sought  the  silence  of  the  tomb. 
Youth,  Beauty,  Worth,  earth's  mightiest  thy  prey  ; 
O'erthrown  by  thee  see  Nations  in  decay, 


m 


68   MONODY  OF  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON. 


; 


I 


J  : 


Of  which  thou  'st  left,  —  of  Genius,  Nations  all, 
But  moDuments  to  show  how  great  their  fall. 
Serpent-like  coiled  within  that  hapless  breast, 
Implacable  !     'T  was  thou  his  life  oppressed  ; 
"With  lying  tongue  on  to  destruction,  stilled 
The  i  oice  of  reason,  thou  his  steps  beguiled, 
Then,  e'en  when  most  thou  promised,  did  betray 
To  death  the  victim  of  thy  perfidy. 
And  thou,  O  World !  in  thy  cold  selfishness, 
Witnessed  the  victim  fall,  yet  to  distress, 
Borne  e'en  that  thou  mightst  hidden  riches  know. 
Brought  not  relief,  nay,  dealt  the  final  blow 
Which  all  of  genius  death  hath  power  to  bind, 
To  the  dark  precincts  of  the  tomb  consigned. 


Is  it  for  this  the  Muse  her  riches  gives  ; 

Is  it  for  this  that  patient  Genius  strives 

Earth's  hidden  things  of  beauty  to  reveal 

From  secret  places  gleaned  with  tireless  zeal,  — 

To  live  the  drudge  of  penury  and  care  ; 

The  dupe  of  hope  ;  the  victim  of  despair  ; 

The  world's  cold  incredulity  to  brave  ; 

To  sink  forgotten  to  a  timeless  grave. 

That  those  may  share  a  wealth  which  else  must  lie 

Buried  in  Nature's  sealed  infinity, 

Who  while  they  scruple  not  the  fruits  t'  enjoy, 

Ungrateful  coldly  pass  the  laborer  by. 


MONODY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  CHATTERTON.   69 

May  shame  smite  thee,  '0  selfishness !  when  on 
The  tomb  that  holds  the  dust  of  Chatterton 
Thou  look'st.     Thou  Pride  and  Envy,  should  ye  too 
There  stray,  may  ye  shame's  deepest  blushes  know. 
While  humbled  ye  within  your  hearts  confess. 
Else  dumb,  how  less  ye  are  than  littleness ! 


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18 

^^S 

A   DREAM: 


SEA  PICTURES. 


One  summer's  day,  beside  the  murmuring  sea, 

Stretched  on  the  beach,  I  slept,  and  dreamed  I  saw 

A  noble  ship,  which,  out  upon  the  deep. 

Moved  proudly  o'er  the  waters  toward  the  east. 

Calm  as  a  mountain  lake  the  ocean  spread 

Beneath  the  brightness  of  a  noon-day  sun, 

Yet  did  it  seem  as  if  the  sultry  air 

Of  summer's  heated  hour  upon  its  breast 

Oppressive  lay,  and  in  its  mighty  heart, 

Deep  down,  disturbed  its  slumbering  forces  —  stirred 

To  restless  throbbings,  as  its  bosom  swelled 

In  slow  pulsation,  and  then  sank  away 

In  strange  disquietude.     Encircling,  arched 

Sublimely  o'er  the  azure  vault  of  h  iven. 

Upon  whose  royal  height  enthroned  sat 

The  god  of  day,  in  dazzling  glory  robed. 


A  DREAM. 


71 


O'er  the  still  depths  the  ship  majestic  moved, 
As  sportively  she  scattered  with  her  prow, 
About  her  path,  —  all  glittering  in  the  sun. 
Unnumbered  brilliants  of  unnumbered  hues. 
Which  she  did  gather  from  the  emerald  deep, 
While  from  her  rolled  upon  the  drowsy  air 
A  long,  dark  line  of  fume,  which  sought  the  haze 
Of  roseate  tint,  far  in  the  glimmering  distance. 
Upon  her  decks  the  "  toilers  of  the  sea," 
Sun-browned  in  service,  each  his  duty  sought, 
While  in  the  rigging  some  the  useless  sail 
With  busy  fingers  folded  to  the  yards. 
All  merry-hearted  singing  as  they  wrought. 
Beneath  an  awning  shading  from  the  sun 
Reclined  the  ocean  voyagers,  and  there 
Upon  the  air  all  merrily  arose 
The  careless  laugh,  the  voice  of  happiness. 
And  busy  tongues  of  little  ones  at  play. 
Beauty  and  Youth  with  faces  bright,  illumined 
With  love  and  hope,  and  Age  with  its  sweet  smile 
In  happiest  intercourse  assembled  were. 
Others  apart  from  those  thus  grouped  about 
Sought  to  beguile  in  quicker  pace  away. 
The  lingering  hours  of  the  hot  summer's  day 
With  tales  of  Fancy's  painting ;  some  o'ercome 
By  its  soporous  breath  in  slumber  lay. 
While  here  and  there  one  o'er  the  bulwarks  leaned 
In  listless  dreamings,  gazing  o'er  the  wave. 


72 


A  DREAM. 


Aside  were  two :  one  Beauty's  prototype  > 

Set  in  a  frame  of  fairest  loveliness  ; 

The  other  Beauty's  proud  defender  —  Youth, 

From  Nature's  sturdier,  bolder  model,  man. 

As  silvery  clouds  in  fleecy  softness  veil 

The  chasteness  of  the  virgin  summer  moon, 

Her  white  attire,  in  sweet  abandon,  draped 

Her  lovely  form  —  in  nameless  grace  composed,  * 

As  she,  reclined  beside  him  whom  she  loved, 

Gave  ear  attent,  as  he  read  to  her  thought ; 

Read  of  some  sorrow,  as  expression  told. 

Moulding  her  face  to  sweet  solicitude  — 

Of  holy  sympathy,  throned  in  the  heart. 

The  superscription.     So  her  lustrous  eyes,  — 

Liquidly  brilliant  as  the  glist'uing  dew 

Upon  the  new-blown,  trembling  violet,  — 

Pearled  in  warm  tears,  did  each  emotion  glass, 

Which  that  sad  tale  awoke  within  her  heart. 

Perchance  it  traced  love's  fair,  young  life  betrayed. 

Blighted  by  dire  deceit,  —  that  worm  which  gnaws. 

With  venomed  fang,  the  heart  whose  warmth  it  gains. 

Lurked  in  love's  flower,  by  falseness  planted  there. 

But  this  was  passed,  and  like  the  sun's  fresh  glow 

Of  heat  and  light  when  April  showers  are  o'er. 

With  a  soft  brightness  beamed  her  tear-damped  eyes. 

Resting  on  him  who,  ceased,  in  their  sweet  depths 

Poured  from  his  own  love's  warm  responsive  rays. 


A   DREAM. 


73 


The  scene  was  changed :  upon  a  rock-bound  coast 
I  stood,  darkness  had  gathered  over  all. 
'Gainst  the  dark  sea  high  loomed  the  walling  cliffs 
Amid  the  starlit  air,  their  towering  fronts 
Stern  frowning,  om'nous,  warders  of  the  deep. 
Robed  in  the  sombre  livery  of  Night. 
About  their  caverned  base  lamentingly, 
The  troubled  waters  tossed,  'neath  the  weird  wind. 
Which  to  the  night  distressfully  complained, 
In  wild  and  fitful  voice.     Higher  it  rose 
And  'neath  it  soon  high  swelled  and  fiercely  lashed 
The  surge  in  angry  clamor  'gainst  the  cliffs. 
While  black  impenetrable  clouds  rolled  o'er. 
Piled  mass  on  mass,  high  'mid  the  thickening  air, 
And  quickly  curtained  with  their  darkened  folds 
The  ebon  vault  of  heaven,  an  hour  before 
Whence  countless  stars  looked  down  upon  the  sea. 
Far  distant,  from  its  cloud-built  battlement. 
Rending  night's  pall,  the  wakened  Lightning  pierced 
With  gleaming  shaft  the  bosom  of  the  deep  ! 
Responsive  to  the  Storm-king's  awful  voice. 
Deep-swelling  from  afar  ;  then  opened  fast 
The  many  portals  of  the  walling  clouds, 
Piled  up  the  vaulted  height,  to  passage  give 
The  spirits  of  the  tempest.     Issuizig  forth, 
They,  riding  on  the  winds,  did  fiercely  urge 
The  elements  to  strife,  most  clamorous 
Where  lightning-led  they  ranged  the  watery  waste, 
5 


74 


A  DREAM. 


i  1 


u  .1 

H  1 


)  i 


Which,  thus  illumed,  its  waves  dark,  serpentine, 

Revealed,  high  surging  in  encounter  wild, 

Like  huge  leviathans  in  fury  met 

Fiercely  contending.     Now  above  the  roar 

Of  the  loud  sea  the  deepening  thunder  rose  — 

And  died  away  upon  the  wind.     Anon 

From  the  dark  zenith  of  the  firmament, 

In  louder  voice  its  angry  mutterings  broke, 

And  rolling  downward  burst  into  a  crash  ! 

Then  every  cloud,  in  emulation  fierce. 

Thundered  reply,  rending  the  trembling  air, 

As  through  the  ambient  darkness,  inky  grown. 

Each  gave  defiant  challenge  to  the  night. 

And  hushed  the  mighty  roaring  of  the  sea. 

Flaming,  the  lightnings,  red-tongued,  lick  the  waves. 

Which    heavenward    madly   reared    their    mammoth 

forms, 
Till,  by  the  tempest  struck,  back  hurled  they  plunged 
With  roars  defiant  to  their  surging  depths. 
Out  on  the  sea,  lit  by  the  lightnings'  glare, 
Flash  following  flash  in  wild  velocity, 
A  ship  swept  on  before  the  tempest's  strength, 
Rose  with  the  maddened  waves,  sank  as  they  sank, 
Then  in  the  Hadean  darkness  disappeared. 


The  fulmines  of  the  storm  were  spent,  though  still 
The  forces  of  the  winds  swept  to  the  cliffs, 


A  DREAM. 


75 


Resistless  in  their  might,  hurling  the  waves, 
To  ftiry  lashed,  'gainst  their  black  adamant. 
As  if  back  summoned  to  their  cavern  strengths. 
Rebellious  they  in  fierce  resentment  raged. 
The  broken  clouds  now  hurried  o'er  the  sky. 
And  laid  their  shattered  masses  'neath  the  arch 
Which  marks  the  southern  limits  of  the  heavens. 
Their  serrate  summits  by  the  moon  illumed, 
Which  now  released,  in  mellow  brilliancy 
Flooded  the  waves  —  to  very  mountains  grown. 
There,  laboring  o'er  their  heights,  the  doomed  ship 
Rose,  mastless,  tottered  on  their  giant  crests. 
Then  headlong  plunged  to  their  abyssmal  depths, 
But  rose  not  up  again.  —  The  waves  rolled  o'er 
Inexorable  — 


Is 


E'^i 


From  my  sleep  I  woke  ; 
Still  murmuring,  in  the  sunset  lay  the  sea. 


I 


SONNETS. 


CANADA. 


All-worthy  Offspring  of  earth's  noblest,  Thou  ! 
Bold  in  thy  blameless  life  and  staunch-knit  frame 
(Through  which  full  course,  as  thy  stout  deeds  pro- 
claim 

The  healthful  currents  that  from  freedom  flow), 

Thou  stand'st  among  the  Nations !    On  thy  brow 
Beams  "Virtue's  diadem,  whose  jewels  bright, 
Kept  by  thy  jealous  care,  a  peerless  light 

Unwavering  shed.     With  equal  balance,  lo, 

At  thy  right  hand  sits  Justice,  Mercy-crowned ! 
Thy  handmaid  Honor ;  while  firm  at  thy  side 
Stands  armored  Loyalty,  pointing  with  pride 

To  thy  Imperial  Mother  o'er  enthroned ! 

Champion  of  Justice,  Truth,  and  Liberty, 

As  they  are  great,  so  shall  thy  glory  be. 


80 


MY  MOTHER. 


MY  MOTHER. 


Remember  thee,  my  mother  !  while  this  heart 
Life  holds,  shall  Memory  ever  fondly  there 
Cherish  the  record  of  thy  love,  thy  care, 

And,  until  life  shall  thence  fore'er  depart. 

With  grateful  voice  thy  praises  shall  declare. 
A  mother's  love  !  in  that  celestial  land 

Where  all  is  love,  there  is  n^*  theme  more  dear : 
E'er  jhosen  when  for  grateful  song  attend 

The  heavenly  bands.    His  praises  first  proclaimed. 
To  harpinga  sweet  then  hymned  this  theme  of  love 
Earth's  brightest  truth  !  in  the  glad  Courts  above 

Next  love  divine  most  worthy  to  be  named. 

As  tliou,  my  INlother,  didst  my  youth  attend, 

So  would  I  prove  thy  comfort  to  the  end ! 


tH- 


•m^>i»«if 


SOLITUDE. 


81 


SOLITUDE. 


On,  I  do  love  to  wander  by  the  shore 
And  watch  the  restless  waters  of  the  deep, 
As  the  night  winds  across  its  bosom  sweep. 

Blending  their  wild  complainings  with  its  roar ! 

J  love  to  wander  through  the  shadowy  wood 

As,  phantom-like,  the  wan  moonlight  there  creeps, 
Where,  'neath    the    sentrying    stars,  tired    Nature 
sleeps 

And  Silence  sits  enthroned  in  Solitude ! 

Such  scenes  a  deep,  mysterious  pleasure  bea  ;, 
Waking  a  prescient  spirit  in  the  breast. 
Timid  of  day,  which  from  a  vague  unrest 

Finds  glad  relief  raptly  communing  there 

With  spirit  voices  from  far  spheres  which  tell 

Of  distant  worlds  to  oense  invisible  I 


82 


TO-MORROW. 


TO-MORROW. 


Farewell  till  flowers  return.     Ah,  could  we  know 
The  darkness  of  that  said  fore'er  't  would  seem 
Thus  marked  but  as  the  shadow  of  a  dream ; 
A  transitory  cloud  destined  to  show 
How  full  the  light  beyond.     Lo  now,  though  far 
To  love,  Time's  darkened  corridors  between 
Its  brightness  falls,  as  through  some  dark  aisle  seen 
The  light  of  day,  and  thitherto  Hope's  star 
Shall  guide  the  steps  of  Faith.     So  e'en  with  joy 
May  we  regard  such  shadows  which  Time's  flight 
Resolves  to  pillars  of  enduring  light, 
Traced  with  sweet  memories  of  fond  constancy, 
Which  ever  in  the  after  years  shall  prove 
The  dearest  of  all  dear  records  to  love  ! 


-t 


MUSIC. 


83 


MUSIC. 


Come,  sacred  Muse,  naught  like  thy  strains  compose 
The  longing  heart,  nor  there  caii  charm  to  rest 

Sorrow's  lament,  and  oh,  what  peace  it  knows 
When  by  thy  entrancing  presence  't  is  possessed ! 

E'en  as  a  bird  at  the  sweet  dawn  of  day 

Sought  by  its  mate,  joins  it  and  soars  away 
Through  sun-flushed  fields  of  azure,  circling  round 

To  some  bright  glade  where  cherished  fruits  abound. 

My  soul  solicitous,  at  thy  behest. 

To  thy  lovtd  realm  joyously  wings  its  flight. 
In  thy  embrace  there  ravished  with  delight 

Till  sweetly  soothed  it  trembles  into  rest. 

All  other  joys  the  passions  but  control, 

'T  is  thou  alone  hath  power  to  reach  the  soul ! 


84 


LICET. 


LICET. 


Relentless  Fate !  struck  by  thy  venomed  dart 

Hope  quivering  lies,  as  palsying  thou  dost  press 
The  icy  hand  on  this  despairing  heart, 

Congealing  there  all  —  save  its  bitterness  ! 
Beneatl*  thy  scourge  e'en  willingly  I've  stood, 

Nor  yet  complained  though  sore  its  lashes  fell, 
While  still  hope's  8^flr  iUumed  the  solitude 

Of  disappointment  where  thou  badst  me  dwell. 
And  now,  oh  wouldst  thou  bid  my  heart  to  quench 

The  one,  last  light  which  in  this  bosom  gives 
Hope  its  sole  ray  ;  and  from  its  shrine  tc  v^rench 

The  dear  idea  on  which  alone  it  lives  I 
I  who  have  bowed,  still  loved  thee  for  this  bliss, 
Remorseless  fate,  canst  thou  not  spare  me  this  ? 


DARKNESS. 


85 


DARKNESS. 


Sleep-bound  I  lay  in  the  dream-vale  of  night. 
Death,  wan  Despair,  sightless  Ambition,  Lust, 
There  gathered  in  contention,  'mid  the  dust 
Of  crumbled  hopes,  threw  for  my  heart.     In  sight 
Methought  it  lay,  wrenched  bleeding  from  its  seat. 
Then  Love,  smooth- limbed,  white  but  for  heat,  came 

there 
With  eyes  of  palpitating  fire,  a  living  flame 
That  from  the  crimson  font  drew  vapory  heat, 
Rising  nepenthean,  soothing  Pain's  mute  desire. 
Death  disappeared  ;  the  noxious  ones  dismay 
Struck,  quickly  turned  and  trembling  fled  away. 
Love  healed  my  heart,  with  kisses  of  sweet  fire 
Burned  there  eternity  ;  named  it  her  own  — 
*    *  Light  'neath    my  lids  ?    O   Death  !  would  thou 
hadst  won. 


I 

1 


^ 


86 


MEDITATION. 


MEDITATION. 


In  that  still  hour  when  the  declining  day 
Along  the  sky  fades  tranquilly  away, 

When  o'er  the  earth  the  glimmering  twilight  creeps, 
All  voices  hashing  as  dear  Nature  sleeps. 

In  solitude,  naught  save  the  symphony 
Of  ocean  heard,  I  love  to  seek  thy  charms. 
Where  naught  ignoble  the  glad  soul  alarms, 

As  rapturously  it  yields  itself  to  thee. 

Silent  thou  art,  thy  silence  eloquence, 
Raising  the  soul  to  its  inherent  life, 

Which,  casting  off  its  mortal  instruments, 

Soars  far  beyond  earth's  narrow  scene  of  strife. 

And,  led  by  thee,  "'    vs  that  immcrtal  state 

In  which  it  too  shall  soon  participate! 


INRI. 


•I 


INRI.^ 


WuEiJ  on  the  cross  hung  man's  high  sacrifice, 
Death  near  approached  his  work  to  execute, 
Awe-struck  recoiled,  in  fear  irresolute 

His  office  on  his  King  to  exercise. 

Then  bowing  to  his  breast  his  head,  the  Christ 
Made  sign  to  the  Implacable,  that  he, 
Without  regard  to  right  of  sovereignty. 

Should  claim  the  sacrifice  at  which  was  priced 

Man's  sin.     Then  did  th'  Inexorable  strike  — 
The  fearful  Sun  to  darkness  paling  fled  ; 
Earth,  trembling,   shrank  to   night's  embrace,  the 
dead 

E'en  by  that  deed  of  their  dread  prince  made  quick, 

Did  him  defy  —  he  had  forever  spent 

His  power  in  striking  the  Omnipotent ! 


>  The  first  eleven  lines  of  this  sonnet  are  translated  from  the  French  of  aa 
unknown  author  of  the  seventeenth  century.  They  occur  in  a  little  poem  en- 
titled  ''  La  Mort  du  Christ,"  which  was  found  inschixjd  upon  the  principal 
gate  of  the  cemetery  whloh  formerly  surrounded  the  Ohurclt  of  Sainte-Trinite, 
in  CberbAQrg. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


* 


LOVE  AND  DIGNITY. 


AN  ALLEOOUY. 


It  was  Juno ;  in  a  vale,  as  the  day  was  declining, 
Near  a  lakelet  rose-lmed  by  the  soft,  waning  light, 

Stately  Dignity  walked,  in  the  silence  resigning 

His  thought  to  those  scenes  which  most  gladdened 
his  sight. 

Not  far  had  he  gone  when  he  heard  a  deep  sighing 
Which  came  from  a  cluster  of  roses  near  by, 

And  great  his  surprise  when  among  them  espying 
The  little  god  Cupid, —  who  'd  uttered  the  sigh. 


On  his  arm  he  reclined,  with  a  rose  in  his  fingers. 
From  which  he  was  plucking  its  leaflets  away. 

While,  as  a  bright  star  on  a  cloud's  summit  lingers, 
A  tremulous  tear  on  his  dark  lashes  lay. 


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92 


LOVE   AND  DIGNITY. 


"  And  what  has  disturbed  you  ?  "  asked  Dignity,  kindly. 

Cupid  started,  and  fluttered  his  wings  in  dismay  ; 
But  feared,  in  the  presence  he  found  himself,  blindly 

To  follow  his  feelings  and  scamper  away. 

He  made  no  reply  ;  simply  pointed  before  him 

Where  an  arrow  lay  broken,  —  the  source  of  his  woe, 

As  he  bit  those  sweet  lips  for  which  women  adore  him, 
And  patted  his  bare  little  leg  with  his  bow  1 

"  Indeed,  and  is  that  it  ?     Just  as  I  expected  ; 

'T would  seem  you've  not  done  as  instructed"  — 
"  'T  is  true,"  — 
"  Precisely,  now  had  you  done  as  I  directed  "  — 

"  You  would  say  I  'd  not  had  this  misfortune  to  rue." 

"  This   oc^e,"  Love  continued,  "  good  Dignity  spare 


me 


» 


Looking  yp  in  his  face  with  a  coy,  suasive  smile, 
"  And  come  here  to-morrow  at  this  hour,  and  hear  me 
Recount  my  success  with  proud  Beauty  meanwhile." 

"  Most  gladly  I  will,  so  good-night,  but  remember  !  " 
"  Never  fear,"  Love  replied,  with  glance  roguishly 
bright, 
Then  with  wings  rustling   softly,  as  leaves  'neath   a 
zephyr, 
He  rose  on  a  sunbeam  and  passed  out  of  sight. 


jt»BiW!»i»f"*'"Bi*^- 


LOVE  AND  DIGNITY. 


93 


Next  eve  to  the  vale,  ere  the  sun  had  ceased  shining, 
Came  Dignity,  —  *t  was  one  he  long  had  loved  best,  — 

And  there,  on  a  bed  of  rich  blossoms  reclining, 
He  beheld  Beauty  fondling  a  rose  on  her  breast. 

Quick,  with  rapturing  pulsation,  his   heart  beat,  but 
hearing 

A  sound  as  of  Love's  half-suppressed  voice  near  by. 
He  concealed  his  emotion,  then  to  her  appearing. 

He  approached,  as  upon  him  she  smiled  graciously. 

Love  had  led  her  hither,  and  now  near  her  hiding, 
'Mid  the  blossom-ilaked  foliage,  as  Dignity  came 

He  sped  a  bright  arrow,  fire-tipped,  which  dividing 
His  heart,  kindled  there  its  wild,  exquisite  fiame  ! 

Thus  struck,  beside  Beauty  he  fell,  to  her  pleaded 
To  draw  from  his  bosom  the  still  flaming  dart ; 

She,  while  soothing   the  wound,  saw  but   Love  e'er 
could  heal  it, 
The  arrow  was  buried  so  deep  in  his  heart  ! 


Then  in  flight  Cupid  cried,  "  Dignity,  I  regret  to 
Have  missed  you,  as  now  I  've  no  time  to  wait,  for 

My  quiver  is  empty.     I  did  not  forget  you, 

You  see.     Now  I  'm  off  for  a  few  arrows  more  !  " 

Now  though  passed  out  of  sight,  in  soft,  dulcet  numbers 
His  voice  lingered  still,  urging  his  sweet  decree, 


■  ■ 


94 


LOVE  AND  DIGNITY. 


While   the  flowers  his  warm  wings  had  kissed *from 
their  slumbers, 
On  the  yet  wooing  sunbeams  spent  their  sweets  wan- 
tonly ! 

Soon  't  was  clear  from  the  manner  of  Beauty  in  press- 
ing 
Her  hand  'gainst  her  breast,  quickly  palpitating, 
Love  had  there  sent  an  arrow,  —  the  rogue  when  pro- 
fessing 
His  quiver  empty,  had  his  darts  *neath  his  wing. 


MUSIC  AND  MEMORY. 


AN     ALLEGORY. 


Music  once  wandering  through  the  heart, 

As  daylight  died  away, 
Found  Memory  sleeping  by  a  tomb 

Whose  verdure  withering  lay. 

Whispering  she  touched  the  slumberer 

Softly  as  the  moon's  beam 
The  folded  flower,  then  passed  away 

As  vanishes  a  dream  ! 


Memory  awoke  and  caught  the  voice 

Reechoing  plaintively,  ' 

Then,  weeping,  viewed  where  she  had  slept. 

And  oh,  how  bitterly ! 


mmmmr' 


96 


MUSIC  AND  MEMORY, 


But  balmful  were  the  tears  thus  shed, 
And  the  flowers  which  there  drooped  lay 

Beneath  their  sweet  refreshment  bloomed 
And  beautified  decay. 

And  now,  no  greener  spot  is  there, 

?or  Memory  loves  to  twine 
The  richest  verdure  of  the  heart 

Around  that  sacred  shrine. 


THE    GLADIATOR. 


The  following  lines  are  a  *  free '  translation  from  the  French  of 
ChSnedolld  (1769-1833),  and  are  inserted  as  of  interest  by  reason 
of  their  being  substantially  identical,  as  will  at  once  be  observed, 
with  those  so  universally  known  and  justly  admired  of  Lord  By- 
ron on  the  same  subject,  occurring  in  "  Childe  Harold."  Unfort- 
unately for  his  French  contemporary,  it  has  been  incontestibly 
established  that  "  our  author  "  spoke  first  by  two  years. 


Spurned,  bleeding  victim  of  a  barbarous  lust  - 
Imperial  Rome's  !  the  gladiator  falls 
On  the  arena  homicidal,  there 

In  calm  repose  yielding  himself  to  death. 

Low  drooped  upon  his  arm,  within  his  heart 
He  concentrates  his  residue  of  strength  ; 
Consents  to  death,  yet  conquers  agony  j^ 

While  dauntless  still  he  braves  the  Roman  foe. 


1  '*  n  consent  a  la  mort,  domptant  Tagonie. 


sjIupb^w? 


98 


THE  GLADIATOR. 


Fast  fails  his  strength,  and  lower  sinks  his  head  ; 
He  feels  his  life  depart.     The  drops  of  blood 
Which  he  beholds  calnoly  and  fearless  fall, 

From  his  torn  side  more  slowly  now  descend. 

Far  from  this  scene  of  horror  are  his  thoughts. 
To  his  loved  home  alone  they  fondly  turn, 
Where  'neath  his  roof,  beside  the  Danube's  shore. 

Affection  sees  his  darling  infant  ones. 

Them  by  their  mother's  knee  he  there  beholds,    . 

While  in  a  spectacle  inhuman  he 

Expiring  lies,  before  an  alien  race. 
Butchered  to  amuse  the  Roman  populace  ! 

Now  o'er  his  face  death's  pallid  hue  is  spread  ; 
He  dies,  yet  ne'er  surrendering  once  to  fear. 
While  with  disdain  the  shouts  prolonged  he  hears 

That  hail  the  victor -- guilty  of  his  blood!  /      ;: 

Oh,  bloody  deed  !  —  dare  man  thus  outrage  man  ? 

Rise  ye,  ye  fierce  barbarians  of  the  north ! 

Speed  to  revenge  your  son's  ignoble  death ; 
Quick,  lest  Rome  still  finds  pleasure  in  your  blood ! 


QUAND   MfeME. 


How  can  I  paint  thy  beauties  ;  how  relate 
Thy  virtues  ?  words  to  compass  them  so  fail 

Thy  graces  —  to  the  cadence  of  thy  feet,  ' 

Make  artful  Speech  its  poverty  reveal.  ^ 

Language  too  poor  to  justly  celebrate 

The  temple  of  thy  form;  the  grace  to  tell 

Of  its  fair  priestess,  matchless  !  —  Sight  alone 

Can  know  how  perfect  Beauty's  paragon  ! 

I  may  not  say  that  peerless  Music's  strain  ^ 

More  richly  pours  since  I  have  known  thy  love ; 

I  may  not  say  fair  Dian  with  her  train 
Of  stars  refulgent,  in  her  course  above 

Now  brighter  beams  ;  and  yet  Music's  refrain 
More   rapturous   falls ;  yon  orbs  —  all  things  now 
_    prove 

Sources  of  joy  undreamt,  and  to  love  yield 

Rich  springs  of  sweetness  ne'er  before  revealed. 


100 


QUAND  MEME. 


E'en  as  the  rising  sun  with  his  royal  light 
Doth  flood  the  world  in  nameless  radiancy  ; 

Raising  all  sunk  in  darkness  by  the  night 
To  share  the  glory  of  his  majesty, 

So  shall  thy  love  impart  higher  delight 
To  every  joy,  and  life's  ambitions  be 

Exalted  to  a  nobler  aim,  and  yet  — 

Nay,  thy  sweet  eyes  rebuke  that  thought  —  forget ! 

'Mid  their  soft  depths,  dark  as  the  star-filled  skies, 
As  'mid  the  night  heat's  silent  lightnings  play. 

In  quivering  warmth  love's  flames  reflected  rise 
From  the  altar  thy  heart  hath  built  to  me. 

And  there  shall  love  joyously  sacrifice 
This  self  it  hath  bound  captive,  for  to  thee 

Who  hast  enthroned  its  image  in  my  breast, 

'T  would  consecrate  the  life  thou  thus  hast  blest ! 


As  't  were  from  sleep  thou  'st  waked  me  ;  changed  to 
day 

The  darkness  of  the  past,  —  appearing  now 
How  dark  I    And  thence  emerged  all  wondrously 

This  new-found  world  breaks  glorious  on  the  view'. 
And  circling  all —  as  doth  the  earth  the  sky. 

Love  doth  encompass  this  creation  new, 
Of  which  thou  art  the  Queen,  a  sovereignty 
\u  which  thou  'st  crowned  me  Consort  unto  thee  ! 


ADDRESS 


TO    THE    MOON. 


Thou  orb  sublime  !     That  from  the  boundless  sky 
Night's  darkening  curtain  now  dost  upward  roll, 

And  flood'st  the  world  in  balmful  brilliancy 

That  steals  like  dream-hushed  music  on  the  soul, 


From  this  still  height,  amid  the  breathless  grove, 
Whereon  thou  dost  thy  first  soft  brightness  shed, 

I  watch  thee  rise  with  an  adoring  love. 
Thou  Queen  of  light  in  majesty  arrayed! 

Above  yon  looming  cliff,  whose  sombre  height, 

Black  'gainst  the  sky,  o'erlooks  the  slumbering  sea 

Thou  soar'st  aloft,  dissolving  into  light 
The  waters,  cradled  to  tranquillity. 


102 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  MOON. 


Mounted  on  high,  now  doth  thy  radiance 

Fill  earth  and  sea.     Most  welcome  art  thou  there 

To  mariners,  —  in  thy  bright  countenance 
Tracing  loved  faces  which  wait  them  afar. 

Yonder  the  distant  city  sleeps,  revealed  by  thee, 
As  thou  dost  silver  dome  and  spire  there. 

Whence  now,  scarce  heard  above  the  murmuring  sea, 
The  midnight  bell  steals  o'er  the  slumbering  air. 

As  thy  full  beams  disperse  night's  gathered  gloom 
'Mid  its  dark  scenes,  what  haunts  of  misery  there  : 

What  drear  abodes  of  anguish  they  illume, 
Sunk  in  the  rayless  midnight  of  despair  ! 

What  thoughts  disturb  the  lonely  convict's  heart 
As  now  he  views  thee  from  his  ironed  cell, 

Of  childhood's  days;  of  cherished  hopes  depart, 
Which  he  remembers  —  ah,  too  sadly  well.       - 

He  feels  thy  beams,  as  now  his  night  they  invade, 
Rest  on  a  scene  which  memory  weeps  to  trace : 

A  grave  amid  the  village  church-yard's  shade, 
Of  her  who  sank  beneath  a  child's  disgrace. 

Thus,  what  diversity  of  scene  untold 

Dost  thou  behold ;  what  mighty  empires  sway 

Hast  seen,  as  through  long  ages  thou  hast  rolled, 
As  now  thou  roU'st  unchanged  —  yet  where  are  they  ? 


ADDRESS  TO  THE   MOON. 


103 


Where  now  is  haughty  Babylonia's  might 
Which  madly  dared  Omnipotence  deride  ? 
For  thou  hast  too  illumed  her  guilty  site 
As  now  the  plain  which  sepulchres  her  pride  I 

• 

So  shall  thy  beams,  before  another  sun, 
Look  on  the  walls  of  crumbling  Pompeii, 
And  from  the  heights  of  silent  Lebanon 
Flood  the  still  waves  of  holy  Galilee. 


Infinite  theme !    Thou  God  all-powerful, 
Whose  hand  directs  e'en  as  Thy  hand  hath  made 
The  Universe  stupendous !  who  may  tell 
The  countless  wonders  of  Thy  work  displayed. 


gg 


FAREWELL. 


Dear  love,  adieu ;  while  thou,  when  I  am  gone, 
With  memory  seek'st  each  love-remembered  spot, 

Fear  not  if,  when  thou  deem*st  thyself  alone, 
A  presence  name  thee  though  thou  see'st  it  not 

Fondly  the  voice  shall  breathe  to  thee  of  him 

Whose  heart  from  thee  can  know  no  pulse  of  joy ; 

And  when  thou  hear'st  do  thou  return  love's  name. 
And  it  shall  make  thee  answer,  it  is  Z 

For  as  the  spirits  of  the  stars  invest 

All  constantly  the  bosom  of  the  sea, 
Though  far  removed,  so  shall  love's  spirit  rest 

By  its  dear  shrine  though  I  be  far  from  thee. 

And  when  thou  viewest  those  warders  of  the  night 
With  their  watch-fires  illume  the  darkening  sky, 

Bethink  thee  that  their  beams  changelessly  bright. 
Image  the  love  this  bosom  bears  for  thee. 


■■■fv'Vv'-f -■- 


11 


FAREWELL. 


105 


There  is  a  pulse  deep  lying  in  the  heart, 

Which  ne'er  responds  save  when  love,  distant  gone. 
With  spirit  touch  doth  sweep  its  chords,  to  impart 

A  sweet  blent  joy  and  sorrow  else  unknown. 

Then  'mid  the  inner  chambers  of  the  soul 
Their  voices,  joined  in  mystic  harmony,     . 

Reechoing  steal,  till  'neath  their  soft  control 
The  heart  is  soothed  to  sweet  tranquillity. 

So,  far  from  thee,  would  love  wake  in  thy  breast 
A  pulse  for  each  that  thrills  this  heart  of  mine  ; 

Which  deems  itself  of  all  most  richly  blest 
Whene'er  it  yields  one  happiness  to  thine. 

Remember  me.     To  guard  the  lamp  of  thought 

Which  lights  love's  shrine,  place  thou  sweet  Con- 
stancy ; 

E'en  in  thy  prayers  be  it  neglected  not 
So  shall  it  gather  an  immortal  ray. 

Remember  thee!  So  surely  art  thou  throned 
Within  my  heart,  there  is  no  power  thence  e'er 

Saving  with  life,  can  take  thee  ;  and  beyond, 
Else  uncontent,  shall  love  thy  image  bear. 

Grood-night ;  farewell,  — farewell^  ah,  how  doth  love 
Against  that  word,  next  feared  to  death,  rebel ; 

Nay,  worse  than  death  that  to  this  heart  must  prove. 
And  death  thrice  sweet  when  comes  indeed  farewell ! 
7 


"-";'-'.,^     /  .     LINES      •.:■:,-"■ 

WRITTEN  UPON  VISITING  THE  "  NATIONAL  CEMETERY,"  ARLING- 
TON, VA.,  WHERE  ARE  BURIED  THE  REMAINS  OP  FORTY  THOU- 
SAND UNION  soldiers;  THEIR  GRAVES,  FOR  THE  MOST  PART, 
BEING  MARKED  BY  A  PLAIN  WHITE  BOARD,  MANY  OF  WHICH 
BEAR  THE  SIMPLE  INSCRIPTION,  "  UNKNOWN   SOLDIER." 

"  To  those  who  hare  some  friend  or  brother  there." 


Ye  patriot  dead  !  o'er  your  sleep  of  devotion 

Beams  the  proud  star  of  victory,  all  gloriously  bright ! 

Here  by  the  dark  stream,  winding  down  to  the  ocean, 
Which  beheld  you  go  forth  in  the  pride  of  your  might.* 

Full  its  radiance  illumines  the  night  which  enfolds  you, 
Reflecting  your  glory  —  which  brightens  its  ray,  — 

In  the  hearts  which  forever  with  pride  shall  behold  you. 
Through  ages  to  come  as  through  years  passed  away. 


And  can  it  then  be  that  "  unknown  "  ye  are  sleeping 
By  the  fields  of  your  valor,  so  fearlessly  trod  ? 

Can  a  Nation  forget  that  the  fruits  she  is  reaping 
Are  sprung  from  the  soil  warmed  to  life  by  thy  blood ! 


LINES. 


107 


Ye  are  known  :  by  the  hearts  which  —  sorrow  e'er  at- 
tending— 

Your  memory  embalm  in  love's  holiest  perfumes ; 
By  the  tears  of  a  Nation  which  o'er  you  descending 

Refresh  the  sweet  flowers  that  wave  o'er  your  tombs. 

Thus  not  here,  where  the  bleak  winds  in  rude  lamen- 
tation 
Complainingly  wander  among  the  sad  pine, 
Are  you  tombed,  but  your  graves  the  warm  hearts  of  a 
Nation,  ^ 

Where  evergreen  blooming,  love's  memories  twine. 

No  more  shall  the  thunders  of  battle  elate  you  ; 
No  more  shall  the  trumpet  of  victory  thrill  — 
Till  the  last  trumpet's  sound,  which  forever  shall  wake 

Triumphant  to  rise  to  the  life  immortal  1 


■t'  ■'Yi'i-''  ■■:•;.>';.  -tir,.,   »■,. 


dlj^^^ 

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l^xi^ 

^^!s^ 

Sb-'Jfo*^ 

^jrw\^  ^ 

p^^M 

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m^"^^ 

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s^^^k/" 

TO  MY  BIRD. 


Who  fashioned  thy  exquisite  symmetry,      ' 
Thou  little  fay  of  song,  thou  paragon 

Of  grace ;  what  wondrous  cunning  artisan 
The  texture  wove  of  thy  rich  livery  ? 

What  hand  the  delicate  machinery  cast 

Which  thus  thy  wings  so  marvellously  propel  ? 

Who  in  thy  tiny  frame  the  forces  placed, 
Which  move  it  thus,  obedient  to  thy  will  ? 


*/ 


f 


What  hast  thou  in  that  little  throat  of  thine 
To  trill  such  notes  of  dulcet  purity  ? 

Who  taught  thee  thus  in  minstrelsy  divine 
To  pour  thy  song  in  rhythmic  harmony  ? 

Perchance  it  was  in  thine  own  native  shades, 
The  purling  brook,  the  voices  of  the  woods, 

Where  now  thy  fellows  in  bright  flowery  glades, 
Fill  with  sweet  song  their  island  solitudes. 


TO  MY  BIRD. 


109 


But  these  thou  ne'er  hast  known  ;  then  't  was  thy  sire 
Tuned  thy  sweet  voice  ?  Nay,  loud  thy  warblings  tell, 

In  praises  rising  softly,  sweetly  higher, 

'T  was  nature's  God  that  fashioned  thee  so  well ! 

Would  I  could  tell  thee  how  I  love  thy  song  ; 

How  dear  to  me,  my  lovely  one,  thou  art. 
Why  fly'st  thou  from  me  ?     I  but  fondly  long 

With  kindliest  hand  to  lay  thee  to  my  heart. 

How  happily  wouldst  thou  lie  upon  my  breast. 

Didst  thou  but  know  how  warms  my  heart  to  thee, 

Yet,  nestling  there,  in  thy  sweet  eye's  unrest. 
Pained  I  behold  thou  fain  wouldst  fly  from  me. 

Thou  canst  not  understand  my  words,  I  know, 
But  love  hath  many  voices,  and  for  thee 

Nature  hath  surely  purposed  one,  and  so 
I  ana  content,  for  Time  will  teach  it  me. 


I!P«^ 


THE  LITANY. 


VERSIFIED. 


tt 


O  God,  the  Kiog  of  heaven  Thou  ! 
Before  Thy  throne  we  sinners  bow ; 
Our  sins  with  mercy  look  upon 
For  Jesu's  sake,  Thine  only  Son ! 

O  God,  the  Son,  Redeemer,  we 
Unworthy  sinners  look  to  Thee  : 
Thy  mercy  —  Thou  didst  sorrow  know 
To  us  most  miserable  show. 

O  God,  Great  Spirit,  Hcly  One, 
Proceeding  from  the  Father,  Son, 
In  prayer  our  souls  we  lift  to  Thee, 
To  us  a  strong  defender  be. 


i' 


O  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  three, 
One  blest  and  glorious  Trinity, 


THE  LITANY. 


Ill 


f^'liX. 


Look  down  in  mercy  as  we  bend, 
To  us  Thy  timely  succor  lend. ' 

Remember  not,  O  gracious  God, 
Our  ways,  nor  those  our  fathers  trod  ; 
Spare  us  by  Thy  Incarnate  Word 
E'en  from  Thy  righteous  vengeance,  Lord ! 

From  evil,  mischief,  and  all  sin  : 
From  Satan's  crafts,  without,  within  : 
'Neath  Thy  just  wrath  let  us  not  fall, 
Thou  God,  most  just,  most  merciful ! 

By  Thy  holy  incarnation  ; 
Thy  baptism,  fast,  temptation  ; 
By  remembrance  of  Thy  birth  ; 
By  Thy  agony  on  earth ; 

By  Thy  pain.  Thy  bloody  sweat; 
By  Thy  cross.  Thy  passion,  death  ; 
By  Thy  dark  sepulchral  sleep  ; 
Borne  that  we  might  death  escape ; 

By  Thy  resurrection  shown ; 
Thy  ascension  to  Thy  throne ; 
By  Thy  Holy  Spirit's  sway, 
O  Christ,  deliver  us,  we  pray  ! 


ir^ 


112 


THE  LITANY. 


When  tossed  upon  life's  troubled  sea ; 
When  blinded  by  prosperity ; 
In  death's  dark  hour  —  in  that  dread  day, 
O  Christ !  deliver  us  we  pray. 

[Do  Thou,  0  Lord,  in  Thy  great  love, 
Our  Sovereign's  heart  to  wisdom  move  ; 
May  she  in  Jesu's  strength  put  on 
Affiance  have  in  Thee  alone.] 

Dear  Lamb  of  God,  how  dark  the  night, 
Which  conquering  death  Thou  'st  made  so  bright ; 
Through  life,  in  death,  be  Thou  the  way 
Which  leads  us  to  eternal  day ! 


A  THOUGHT. 


1/ 


I  WATCHED  a  rose  at  evening  fade  away, 
As  leaf  by  leaf  its  crimson  richness  fell, 

And  sadly  gazing  thought,  may  thus  decay 
Such  beauty  claim,  thence  irredeemable  ? 

I  sought  in  vain  the  multitudinous  dew, 
An  hour  before  glittering  in  bright  array 

Along  the  sward,  nor  aught  was  left  to  show 

What  glory  thence  had  passed  from  earth  away ! 

The  spirit  of  the  flower,  the  soul,  methought. 
Of  fire  in  the  dew,  thus  fled,  must  pass 

To  some  bright  realm,  and  straight  my  fancy  sought 
To  place  the  sphere  worthy  such  loveliness. 

To  phosphor  floating  in  her  sea  of  light  — 
An  isle  of  glory ;  to  th'  enchanted  sphere 

Arched  by  the  iris  ;  to  each  star  its  flight  . 
Did  Fancy  wing  —  successless  voyager. 


i    i 


114 


A  THOUGHT. 


I  stood  amid  a  brilliant  scene  of  joy, 

Where  Beauty  moved,  in  Music's  sweet  embrace, 
Shedding  on  all  a  nameless  radiancy 

From  the  divine  effulgence  of  her  face  ! 

Then  Love  exultant  cried  :  "  That  fit  repose 
By  Fancy  sought,  e'en  here  all  glorious  view  : 

In  Beauty's  cheek  immortal  blooms  the  rose  ; 
In  Beauty's  eyes  the  fires  born  in  the  dew ! " 


STANZA 

WRITTEN    IN  THE   FLY-LEAF  OF  A    BOOK  PRESENTED   TO  DOC- 
TOR    *      *     *      *      ON  HIS  RETURN  TO  HIS  HOME  IN 

BERMUDA. 


With  this  adieu  —  alas  that  jealous  Fate 
Should  ever  thus  fond  friendships  separate ! 
Mayst  thou  and  thine  by  joy  e'er  compassed  be 
As  are  thine  isles  by  their  glad,  sunlit  sea. 


f, 


, « 


\,ti  ■  * 


PROLOGUE 

WRITTEN  FOR  THE  *  ♦  *  *  AMATEUR  DRAMATIC 

SOCIETY. 


Before  the  players  here  begin  their  task, 

The  kind  attention  of  our  guests  we  ask 

To  a  few  measures  coupled  into  rhyme, 

Which  being  brief,  one  brief  measure  of  time 

Will  hold  them  all,  and  this  a  goodly  measure 

Withal  must  prove  if  it  afford  you  pleasure. 

And,  as  we  judge,  if  you  are  fond  of  meeting 

In  a  new  dress  an  old,  familiar  greeting, 

This  we  may  hope,  though  by  the  rhyming  code 

The  dress  we  've  chosen  be  not  a  la  mode. 

However  't  is  likely  since  the  dress  is  new 

'T  will  please  the  fair,  and  if  this  it  should  do, 

Of  course  we  shall  not  lose  the  approbation 

Of  the  less  gentle  sex,  whose  admiration 

Is  ne'er  withheld  when  Beauty  deigns  to  smile  — 

Beauty  e'en  goddess  crowned  in  Paphos'  classic  isle ! 


116 


PROLOGUE. 


As  *t  is  the  custom  where  the  play  hath  made 

"The  hundredth  night"  (and  profit  doth  persuade 

To  the  e'en  liberal  tribute)  to  present 

Each  lady  flowers,  in  due  acknowledgment : 

So  would  we  now  present  to  all  who  grace 

With  their  bright  presence  this  our  meeting  place 

One  flower,  of  all  the  fairest  of  its  kind. 

Which  with  our  *   *   *   *   hath  been  entwined 

Since  first 't  was  chosen  in  the  years  gone  by 

As  emblem  for  our  glad  fraternity. 

This  flower  to  all  most  sweet,  and  doubly  dear 

Because  for  all  some  blossoms  it  doth  bear, 

And  though  perforce  for  some  it  richer  grows, 

For  all  its  fragrance  equal  sweetness  knows, 

Be  it  where  in  the  cotter's  home  't  is  found 

Or  in  baronial  halls  where  wealth's  rich  tints  abound. 


I. 


Nursed  'neath  a  sun  more  warm  than  that  of  day, 

A  sun  which  beams  with  all  immortal  ray, 

This  flower,  —  unlike  the  blooms  which  'neath  the  sun 

Of  summer  smile,  to  fade  when  summer  's  gone,  — 

Ne'er  changing  smiles  ;  its  radiant  face  e'er  one 

In  tropic  lands  or  the  bleak  northern  zone, 

While  in  the  Elysian  fields  its  blossoms  bear 

The  richest  perfume  of  all  gathered  there.  ,  V 

Its  name  once  said,  none  here  but  will  confess  ,  *  > 

All  words  must  fail  its  richness  to  express, 

While  every  heart  with  warmer  pulse  must  beat 

To  hear  a  name  to  all  so  passing  sweet ; 


PROLOGUE. 


117 


A  name  above  all  others  that  we  prize ; 

The  first  of  all  within  our  hearts  to  rise 

For  those  we  love  when  to  our  hearths  they  come ; 

The  first  to  warm  the  wanderer's  heart  when  home 

Again  is  reached,  as  its  sweet  sound  before 

Was  music  in  his  dreams  ou  many  a  distant  shore ! 


This  then  it  is  that  Fancy  paints  a  flower, 

As  truest  emblem  of  the  sweet  and  pure 

And  ever  beauteous  sentiment  whose  fame 

Thus  celebrating,  we  would  now  proclaim : 

Welcome  its  name,  and  this  we  gladly  give 

To  all,  and  while  the   *   *   *   *   shall  live. 

With  it  this  e'er  shall  flourish,  side  by  side. 

To  be  as  it  hath  been,  our  joy  and  pride. 

"  Its  sun,"  you  ask,  of  which  our  lines  relate, 

*Neath  which  it  knows  a  more  congenial  heat 

Than  that  of  day  ?     Good-will  (toward  all)  its  name ; 

A  sun  which  shines  with  an  immortal  beam, 

And  here  we  feel  its  genial  rays  to-night. 

And  from  the  flower  "  welcome,"  which  its  light 

Its  beauty  gives,  the  choicest  sweets  we  choose. 

And  to  present  them  thus  attends  the  Muse, 

Who  with  a  pleasure  inexpressible 

Profusely  scatters  them  to  each  and  all, 

On  every  hand,  wishing  that  none  may  e'er 

Less  cordial  greetings  know  than  meet  them  here. 


« 


SUNSET. 


A  FRAGMENT. 


*;< 


Lo,  down  the  western  slope  the  king  of  day 
Majestic  moves  on  his  sphere-circling  way  ; 
To  welcome  whom  the  Occidental  Queen 
Resplendent  comes,  with  her  rich  vestured  train, 
'Neath  the  blue  arch,  with  royal  colors  bright, 
Which  vaults  the  entrance  to  her  realm  of  light  ! 

Of  burnished  gold  her  airy  palace  stands, 
Gilding  the  azure  which  high  o'er  expands  ; 
Its  glittering  dome  with  richest  crimson  hung 
And  broidered  ensigns  from  its  summit  flung, 
Of  countless  colors,  barred  and  fringed  with  gold, 
Which  to  the  heavens  their  wavy  lengths  unfold. 


As  'neath  the  portal  moves  the  majesty 
Of  day,  th'  attendant  pageant  marshally 


SUNSET. 


119 


<-:■'. 


In  columns  form  —  gold,  orange,  purple,  blue, 
And  as  the  royal  Comer  passes  through 
Their  ranging  lines,  each  phalanx  raise  on  high      ■  ** 
Their  oriflammes,  proclaiming  fealty !  " ' 

As  now  beyond  the  flame-emitting  height 
Majestically  descends  their  sovereign  light, 
Deployed  they  follow,  slowly  lost  to  view. 
Till  the  last  passes  'neath  the  vaulting  blue. 

Soon  waiting  Nox  swings  to  the  gates  of  light, 
Shutting  the  final  progress  from  the  sight, 
When,  gathering  fast,  attend  the  sentrying  stars 
Marshalled  by  their  proud  Queen,  or  chieftain,  Mars. 

The  lowing  kine  now  homeward  take  their  way. 
Each  member  slowly  filing  o'er  the  lea, 
A  moment  loitering  at  the  way-side  stream 
On  which  the  last,  faint  flecks  of  daylight  gleam. 

Amid  the  wood,  sings  modest  Philomel, 

Upon  the  silence  her  love  madrigal 

As  sweetly  falling  as  the  tinkling  rill 

Heard  through  the  midnight  when  all  else  is  still. 

Softly  quick  Echo,  wakened  at  the  strain. 

Replies  accordant  to  the  sweet  refrain 

From   secret   haunts   which   none   but  wood-nymphs 

know,  , 

Save  the  Enchantress  of  the  lunar  bow. 


mt^vm 


120 


SUNSET. 


Soon  dewy  showers  disturb  the  evening  lay, 
And  Philomela's  warblings  die  away, 
When  with  her  Echo  sinks  into  repose, 
And  silence  o'er  the  earth  her  mantle  throws. 


:J,-^-: 


)^s 

w^^ 

g 

PHb  /r 

ft 

p"'"^ 

Tr^    xrv*^ 

^^"(y^ 

?rP^ 

A  REMEMBRANCE. 


I  STOOD  alone  on  the  pebbled  beach 
As  the  moon  rose  over  the  sea, 

And  the  doleful  break  of  the  restless  waves, 
Brought  sad  memories  to  me. 

Across  her  silvery  path  o'er  the  wave 

A  ship  passed  into  the  night : 
Though  it  glided  by  ere  I  'd  viewed  it  well, 

I  can  never  forget  that  sight. 


E'en  thus,  I  thought,  on  life's  path  appear 

Sweet  faces  soon  lost  to  sight 
For  evermore,  —  to  find  in  the  heart 
^  A  shrine  love  keeps  ever  bright. 


■!■— ^ 


"SWEET   FLOWER." 


"  Sweet  flower,  and  must  thy  beauty  fade, 
Though  born  but  yesterday  ?  — 
Scarce  one  short  day  of  life,  and  now 
Thou  hasten'st  to  decay." 

"  True,  brief  is  my  abiding  here," 
Replied  the  flower,  "  and  yet 
If  earth  be  sweeter  for  my  life 
I  know  naught  of  regret." 


LOVE  TO  THE  MIRROR. 


Since  all  my  darts  in  vain  assail  her  breast, 
Show  thou  to  her  the  charms  for  which  I  sigh, 

That  wooed  by  beauty  she  entranced  may  gaze 
And,  like  Narcissus,  self-enamored  die ! 


TO 


In  her  high  temple  Memory  shall  enshrine. 
As  love  hath  in  the  temple  of  the  heart,  — 
Thy  image  'neath  that"  of  the  Muse  divine, 
Whose  votary  and  favored  child  thou  art. 


wf^mm 


LOVE   IN  ABSENCE. 


"  En  e  amor  la  auscencia  es  como  el  aire,  que  apaga  el  fuego  chico,  i  en 
ciende  el  grande."  —  Spanish  Pboveeb.  ^ 


t/ 


A  LITTLE  fire 

Doth  soon  expire 
*Neath  the  wind's  agitation, 

Whereas  the  same 

A  greater  flame 
Swells  to  a  conflagration  ! 

E'en  so  to  love 
Doth  absence  prove: 

A  little  fire  o'er-turning, 
But  once  the  breast 
Love's  flames  invest, 

It  sets  them  wildly  burning. 


■ «,-,".. 


LINES  IN  AN  ALBUM. 


f/ 


As  oft  beneath  the  church-yard's  quiet  shade 
We  wander  musing  at  the  close  of  day, 
And  mark  the  sadd'ning  records  telling  there 
Of  fondest  friendships  which  have  passed  away  ; 
So  in  life's  evening  when  thine  eyes  shall  stray 
Amid  these  pages,  to  thy  memory  dear. 
Pass  not  this  leaf — in  sacred  friendship's  name 
Fondly  I  now  inscribe  "  remembrance  "  here. 

THE  SAME. 

Spotless  this  page  where  now  my  verse  I  place ; 
E'en  thus  the  record  of  thy  young  life  is. 
Would  that  as  here  friendship  I  fondly  trace 
I  there  might  grave  unfading  happiness. 

THE  SAME. 

My  autograph  you  ask  ?     Behold 
Upon  this  page  I  gladly  write  it 
May  smiles  alone  attend  the  lips 
At  whose  command  I  now  indite  it. 


LINES. 


r/ 


!ii    ! 


If  o'er  each  worthier  birth  some  proud  star  shines, 

Importing  favors  for  its  foster  child, 
By  genius  dowered  or  gifted  from  the  shrines 

Which  hold  the  wealth  of  Virtue's  sacred  guild, 

Surely  o*er  hers  in  whom  combined  appear 
Genius  and  virtues  which  might  more  adorn, 

In  happiest  conjunction  many  a  star 

Propitious  beamed,  blessing  the  natal-morn. 


t,. 


IN    MEMORIAM. 


In  death  thou  sleep'st — blessed  immunity  ! 
Life's  ills  to  change  for  immortality, 
A  stranger  here,  thy  soul  in  glad  release 
Hath  sought  the  regions  of  eternal  peace. 
What  though  thy  form  is  laid  beneath  the  sod  ! 
Earth  gains  but  earth  :  thy  soul  is  with  thy  God. 
Though  cold  and  dark  may  be  thy  earthy  bed, 
It  holds  but  dust  —  thy  ransomed  spirit  fled, 
On  joyful  wing,  to  the  bright  fields  above, 
Now  knows  the  fulness  of  the  Saviour's  love. 
Thus  over  death,  striving  for  victory. 
Faith-armed,  the  soul  risos  triumphantly  ; 
The    grave  —  which   e'er    to    crush    the   soul 

striven  — 
Proving  the  portal  to  the  courts  of  Heaven. 


hath 


! 


r 


111 


■PHMH 


n 


.-.v.*. 


SONGS. 


SEE,  DOWN  THE  MOUNTAIN'S  SHADOWY 

SIDE. 


See,  down  the  mountain's  shadowy  side 
Two  rivulets  unnoticed  glide. 
Till,  meeting  in  the  vale  below, 
Wedded  a  sparkling  stream  they  flow  — 
The  drift  they  thus  to  ocean  bear 
Separate  they  could  not  carry  there. 


Thus  wedded  souls  by  grief  o'erta'en 
A  mutual  aid  impart : 

The  sorrows  they  may  thus  sustain 

Would  break  a  single  heart. 

The  burdens  they  together  share 
They  could  not  if  divided  bear. 


THERE'S  SOME  ONE  WITH  THE  BRIGHT- 
EST EYES. 


f> 


There  's  some  one  with  the  brightest  eyes 

That  ever  love  betrayed  ; 
There  's  some  one  with  the  sweetest  smile 

That  beauty  e'er  displayed, 
Whose  image,  wheresoe'er  I  be, 

Love  ever  brings  to  view, 
And  who  that  some  one  is,  fairest, 

I  scarce  need  name  to  you. 

There  is  an  anxious  heart  that  knows 

A  rapture  it  conceals. 
And  longing  waits  the  hour  to  speak 

The  fulness  which  it  feels. 
Its  joy  alone  beneath  that  smile, 

'Neath  those  sweet  eyes  of  blue. 
And  in  whose  breast  it  beats,  sweet  one. 

Oh,  need  I  name  to  you  ? 


-.'' 


Si:  i 


OH,  WHEN  THE  HEART' IS  BREAKING. 


Oh,  when  the  heart  is  breaking 
'Neath  cruel  death  o'er-taking 
Its  pulses  fond  and  true, 
What 's  griefs  one  throb  of  pleasure  ; 
What 's  memory's  fondest  treasure  ? 
The  fond,  the  last  adieu  ! 

Then  hope,  no  more  deluding. 
The  shade  of  death  secluding 
Its  beams  fore'er  from  view. 
What  soothes  the  pain  of  sorrow  ; 
What  balm  can  memory  borrow  ? 
The  fond,  the  last  adieu. 


I 


{lEf 


"  BRIGHT  BIRD   OF  SPRING." 


Bright  bird  of  spring,  I  greet  thee, 

Though  thou  sorrow  bring' st  to  me, 
As  glad  as  are  the  warblings 

Of  thy  sweet  minstrelsy. 
Thy  presence  wakes  remembrance 

Of  the  loved  I  lost  with  thee, 
Till  I  scarce  can  bear  the  anguish 

Of  the  thoughts  that  rise  in  me. 

"With  thee  the  flowers  sad  Autumn 

Laid  in  earth's  snow-white  breast, 
Return,  but  ne'er  may  come  again 

My  loved  laid  there  to  rest. 
And  so  e'en  to  thy  happy  song,  — 

Too  brief  for  joy  before. 
Must  sorrow's  voice  within  my  heart 

Lament  for  evermore. 


?/ 


I 


I  LOVE  TO  LOOK  INTO  THINE  EYES. 


I  LOVE  to  look  into  thine  eyes, 
Thy  soul's  bright  mirrors,  where 

Its  crystal  depths  reflected  beam  — 
Glancing  in  beauty  there  ! 

I  love  to  look  into  thine  eyes, 

Sweet  springs  which,  sparkling  o'er 

Life's  sterile  plain,  refreshment  yield 
Else  never  known  before. 


I  love  to  look  into  thine  eyes 
Where  virtues  mirrored  are  ; 

Virtues  which  Modesty  would  hide 
By  Truth  revealed  there. 


JUCIL 


"  HOPE,  WHAT  ART  THOU  TO  ME  ?  " 


Hope,  what  art  thou  to  me  ? 

A  vapor  flame  that  warms  not : 
Those  oft  deceived  by  thee 

Thy  vain  illusion  charms  not. 

The  darkness  of  despair 

Thy  changeful  beams  illume  not, 
Saving  to  unmask  there 

The  horrors  they  consume  not. 


I!  I 


BARCAROLLE. 


Right  merrily 

O'er  the  billows  free 
Our  light  bark  swiftly  glides, 

And  the  mellow  light 

Of  the  starry  night 
Our  course  o'er  the  water  guides. 

With  thoughts  as  free 

As  the  rolling  sea, 
O'er  the  tossing  waves  we  bound, 

While  in  the  deep, 

As  we  onward  sweep, 
Our  oars  fall  with  musical  sound ! 

Chorus. 

Then  row  with  a  will,  with  a  will,  boys, 

And  sing  as  we  go  with  a  will,  boys  ! 

Our  strength  to  the  oar,  speeding  far  from  the  shore, 

O'er  the  sea  we  love  as  we  e'er  will,  boys. 


•J <i   "■•H 


jj  iili'i 


I 


138 


BARCAROLLE. 


The  winds  we  brave, 

While  the  bounding  wave 
Obedient  to  our  will, 

Like  a  mettled  steed 

From  its  curbings  freed,  * 

Bears  us  onward  —  onward  still  ! 

The  waves  may  dash. 

The  lightnings  flash, 
And  the  winds  oppose  our  course  — 

These  our  joy  to  dare. 

Their  wild  sport  to  share, 
A  J  .  :  mingle  our  voices  with  theirs  ! 

Chorus. 

Then  row  with  a  will,    .  lii  a  will,  boys, 

And  sing  as  we  go  with  a  will,  boys  ! 

Our  strength  to  the  oar,  speeding  back  to  the  shore, 

O'er  the  sea  we  love,  as  we  e'er  will,  boys ! 


^, 


h 


FRAGMENTS. 


^^^ 

1^ 

i^ 

m 

3^ 

^^^ 

2s> 

^^^^^ 

^ 

i&^ 

» 

--  A_- 

M 

^^^^^m 

^^ 

S 

^ 

^^ 

A  VISION. 

fragment   of   a   projected  allegorical    poem, 
"love  and  wealth." 


"  J'^taifl  seul  pr@B  des  flots;  pas  un  nuage  aux  cieux,  sur  lee  men  pas  de 
▼oilea.    Mes  yeux  ploageaient  plus  loin  que  le  monde  r^l." 

Victor  IIdoo. 


I  HAD  a  dream,  wherein  it  seemed  tc  me 
I  stood  alone  at  daybreak,  by  a  sea 
Amid  whose  waves  I  saw  an  island  rise, 
A  gem  of  beauty,  'gainst  the  azure  skies. 
But  little  off,  and  though  around  me  seemed 
Night's  shadows  still,  a  heavenly  brightness  beamed 
Upon  the  isle.     From  its  luxuriant  shade 
Sloped  to  the  wave  a  strand  of  crystals  made ; 
A  radiant  belt  of  scintillating  light 
Which  richly  sparkled  as  faded  the  night 
Along  the  sea ;  and  as  I  gazed,  methought 
I  was  translated  to  this  beauteous  spot. 


' 


142 


A  VISION. 


I     i 


On  a  hill-side  I  stood,  bedecked  in  blue 

Of  violets,  glistening  'neath  pearly  dew, 

As  the  light  dawning  o'er  a  flowery  rise 

With  softest  rose  tinted  the  lilac  skies. 

Now,  gilding  the  rich  foliage  of  the  spot, 

The  risen  sun  resplendent  glory  brought, 

As  stately  palms  put  on  their  richest  hue. 

And  hidden  flowers  broke  upon  the  view. 

Waked  by  the  breeze,  which  fraught  with  spicy  scent, 

With  purling  streamlets,  murmured  of  content, 

While  countless  songsters,  decked  in  varied  coats. 

Greeted  each  other  with  their  mellow  notes. 

Of  former  scones  I  seemed  to  have  no  thought. 
Scarce  a  remembrance,  as  entranced  I  sought, 
With  wandering  step,  each  spot  with  beauty  spread, 
Of  hill  and  dale,  in  richest  verdure  clad. 
Where  floral  sweets  and  fruits  luxuriant  swayed ; 
Now  grossing  gurgling  brooks  of  purest  run, 
That  softly  carolled  in  the  wondrous  sun ; 
Now  lost  'mid  groves  of -royal  fruits  ne'er  told, 
Entranced,  bewildered  at  this  scene  of  gold ! 

«         «         *        *        *        *         *        * 

'  I  now  beheld  a  spot  more  perfect  yet. 
If  e'er  perfection  with  itself  hath  met, 
Which  rose  from  out  a  plain  with  gentle  slope, 
A  mount  of  blossoms  to  its  palm-crowned  top. 
Toward  this  I  turned,  that  from  its  bright  ascent 
I  might  perchance  survey  the  isle's  extent,        -       - 


A  VISION. 


143 


From  which,  soon  reached,  I  viewed  the  landscape  o'er 

On  either  side,  from  farther  shore  to  shore, 

And  thence  beheld  o'er  many  a  verdured  rise 

The  waters  stretch  to  meet  the  arching  skies, 

As  now,  methought,  the  sun  beyond  the  deep 

In  crimson  splendor,  wearied,  sank  to  sleep. 

Anon  the  moon,  mounting  the  eastern  height. 

Dispelled  the  shades  of  the  attendant  night, 

And  thick  and  fast  her  silvery  arrows  flew 

Piercing  the  foliage,  while  her  brightness  threw 

Light  upon  all  around,  and  now  revealed 

A  lake,  before  by  its  rich  shades  concealed. 

In  a  still  vale  it  slept,  sentricd  around 

By  wooded  hills,  and  sweetly  cjime  the  sound 

Of  falling  water  from  the  wandering  rills. 

Which  left  their  course  among  the  neighboring  hills 

To  seek  its  placid  bosom. 

Now  reclined 
Near  the  lake's  edge,  exhausted  I  resigned 
Myself  to  sleep.     I  had  not  thus  remained 
A  moment,  seemingly,  but  had  regained 
My  strength  anew,  when  suddenly  I  woke 
As  on  my  ear  the  sound  of  footsteps  broke. 
And  in  the  foliage  which  about  me  grew 
I  saw  a  figure  disappear  from  view. 
Breathless  I  listened  but  there  came  no  sound 
Save  the  soft  murmur  of  the  falls  beyond, 
White  in  the  moonlight,  —  then  sweet  symphonies 
Of  music  rose  and  died  upon  the  breeze. 


144 


A   VISION. 


Then,  by  the  light  of  the  full  risen  moon, 

I  saw  before  nae,  drawn  up  from  the  tide, 
A  little  skiff  from  purest  coral  hewn 

Of  an  exquisite  model.     From  its  side 
A  silver  oar,  most  delicately  made. 

Hung  in  the  wave,  all  dripping  as  it  lay, 
While  new-pressed  footsteps  which  the  sand  displayed 

Declared  its  pilot  was  not  far  away. 

Quick  to  my  feet  I  sprang,  for  just  before  me 

The  most  transporting  sight  ravished  my  eyes : 
A  goddess  stood,  in  all  her  pristine  glory. 

Too  beautiful  for  words  to  realize  : 
She  was  not  dressed  as  on  this  sphere  the  fashion, 

A  habitante  of  that  enchanted  clime. 
Yet,  as  it  proved,  that  most  seductive  passion 

In  her  gave  place  to  one  far  more  sublime. 

Her  feet  in  ribboned  sandals  were  attired, 

And  then,  indeed,  she  wore  —  her  dignity, 
Though,  to  be  brief,  her  dress  could  be  admired 

For  nothing  save  its  strict  economy  : 
Her  wealth  of  hair  was  rolled  into  a  — 

I  scarcely  know  its  delicate  technique, 
Let  each  one  call  it  what  they  will,  I  wist 

None  but  at  once  will  know  of  what  I  speak. 
And  there  was  throned  in  her  sweet  eyes  a  soul 

'Neath  whose  sweet  force  I  seemed  to  live  anew: 


t/ 


: 


A    VISION.  145 

And  when  she  smiled  on  me,  with  full  control 
That  new-found  life  quick  to  perfection  grew. 

She  stood  beside  her  little  craft,  which  hid 

Its  soft,  rose  tint  in  the  delicious  glow 
Of  her  sweet  form,  and  as  the  bright  moon  shed 

Its  mellow  brilliancy  on  her  fair  brow, 
And  in  its  softening  rays  veiled  her  sweet  form, 

Raptured  I  stood,  then  in  a  voice  that  spoke 
Enchantment  and  sweet  peace  unto  the  storm 

Within  my  breast,  thus  she  the  silence  broke :  — 

"  Know'st  thou  this  land,  or  hast  thou  ne'er  before 

Explored  its  sweets  —  iis  ever  cloudless  skies  ; 
Ne'er  known  the  pleasures  of  yon  farther  shore 

Where  now  thou  hoar'st  those  strains  of  music  rise 
Upon  the  fragrant  aii  •'  —  thence  have  I  come. 

Where  yonder  lights  are  flashing  o'er  the  scene : 
'T  is  my  abode  and  the  luxurious  home  g 

Of  mirth  and  pleasure,  —  I  alone  its  queen." 

"  Goddess  of  love,"  I  spoke,  approached  a  pace, — 

"  And  then  you  know  me, "  quickly  she  replied. 
"  Aye,  beauteous  queen  —  who  may  behold  thy  face, 

Nor  know  't  is  beauty,  love,  personified. 
This  is  thy  land,  fair  Venus ;  this  bright  sphere 

The  land  of  love,  and  yonder  distant  sea 
The  sea  of  Time ;  these  symphonies  I  hear 

The  joyous  sounds  of  love's  glad  minstrelsy." 


146 


A   VISION. 


"  Well  pleased  am  I  to  see  thee  thus  display 
A  knowledge  of  this  land  not  all  possess, 

And  oft  possessing,  blindly  turn  away 
To  yonder  isles  adjacent  —  happiness 

Foregoing  for  the  gain  they  madly  weigh 
Against  this  wealth,  which  man  alone  can  bless ; 

And  for  a  pleasure,  ever  joined  to  pain. 

Renounce  this  joy  which  few  may  e'er  regain. 

"  Such  are  the  isles  of  Pride  and  Avarice, 
Where  pomp  is  life,  or  gold  man's  only  aim. 

How  all  excelling  this  true  happiness 

Where  life  is  love  :  love  that  immortal  flame 

Which  in  Elysia's  sacred  temple  is 

The  living  infinite,  and  source  supreme 

Of  every  joy,  and  thence  diffused  pervades 

This  happy  realm,  filling  its  flower-bright  glades. 


"  Wealth,  boasting  all,  no  happiness  can  shed 
Wliere  love  is  not,  but  is  a  nothingness ; 

A  lifeless  frame  from  which  the  soul  is  fled ; 
A  death  which  hath  a  form  of  loveliness. 

Like  yon  pale  orb  so  brilliant  yet  all  dead. 
Where  silence  broods  in  each  dark,  bleak  recess. 

Radiant  it  shines,  all  dazzling  to  behold, 

A  sight  of  beauty  but  how  deathly  cold  ! " 


'^^^ 

^~~5!IISjctt 

"Yy^    "^ 

r^v^oBsj 

^ 

g^ 

^ 

'^^^^ 

^S 

^ 

m 

H^^'^^nE 

s 

^-^^w-r 

r'T 

THE  DAKOTA. 


Far  *neath  the  crimson  west,  all  sear  and  brown, 

Range  the  dark  hills  of  the  Dakota  land, 
O'er  arid  plains  ;  yet  farther,  looking  down 

On  pine-gloomed  wilds,  where  waters  darkly  grand 
Leap  their  rock-walls.   There  wide  the  wind-drift  sand 

The  ashen  alkali,  stretches  a-plain, 
O'er  which,  else  shadeless,  sun-scorched  sparsely  stand 

The  lonely  cotton-woods ;  and  as  a-main 
Companion  ships  becalmed,  'neath  burning  skies, 
From  'far  appear,  their  slender  heights  arise. 


II. 


There,  in  primitive  lodges  of  the  plain, 
Dwelt  the  Dakota  tribes  confederate, 

The  land  possessing  'twixt  the  rock-forged  chain 
Ot  mountains  westward  and  the  river  great, 


148 


THE  DAKOTA. 


"  Father  of  Waters  "  named,  which  through  the  gate 

Of  Delta  rolls  into  the  southern  sea. 
Foremost  in  war,  with  courage  desperate, 

Of  all  the  mightiest  braves  most  dreaded  they, 
Till  in  defence  'gainst  them  combined  arose 
Tribes  which  else  held  themselves  deadliest  of  foes ! 


For  countless  years,  free  as  the  winged  wind, 

And  scarce  less  fleet ;  more  fierce  and  deadlier  far. 
O'er  plain  and  through  deep  forests,  rock-confined. 

To  dauntless  strength  most  loved,  the  Savage  there 
Ranged  chieftain  of  the  wilds.     Alike  the  lair 

Of  mountain  beast  and  eaglets  eyried  bed. 
Far  up  the  crag,  't  was  but  his  joy  to  dare  ; 

And  oft  the  grizzly  monster  crouched  in  dread 
Of  such  a  foe,  till  desperate  driven  at  length 
Employed,  how  vainly,  its  else  matchless  strength  !  * 


IV. 


ii ,. 


r 


Swift,  not  less  sure,  the  barbed  arrow  flew 

From  his  sprung  bow,  drawn  'neath  a  strength  like 
that 
Which  in  the  storm  the  stoutest  sapling,  low 

Bends  earthward,  in  the  fated  life  to  wet 
Its  lightning  shaft,  with  feathery  rudders  set. 

Plucked  from  the  wing  which  soaring  high  it  brought 
Lifeless  to  lay  low  at  its  master's  feet  — 

His  gladdest  triumph  save  when  true  it  sought 


THE  DAKOTA. 


149 


The  hostile's  breast,  to  yield  him  that  e'er  still 
The  proudest  trophy  of  a  warrior's  skill ! 

In  verdured  plains,  walled  by  the  mountain  height, 

Beside  the  running  waters  was  his  home, 
Where  rose,  scarce  fewer  than  a  countless  flight 

Of  winged-ones  north-bound  when  the  spring  has 
come. 
The  painted  tepees  of  his  tribe.     Close  some 

Stood  'neath  the  mount ;  some  by  the  river's  sands. 
Where  tethered  danced  in  the  in-eddying  foam 

The  swift  canoes, — some  staunch  for  war's  demands  ; 
Some  of  a  grace,  with  odorous  cedar  wings. 
But  fitted  for  love's  happy  wanderings. 

» 

■     VI.         ,.  . 

And  oft  it  was  when  the  last  beams  of  day 

Bathed  stream  and  woodland  in  their  soft  rose-hue. 
As  the  bright  moon,  with  love-inspiring  ray, 

Floated,  all  beauteous,  up  the  orient  blue. 
Out  from  the  shore  glided  the  light  canoe 

Bearing  the  love-led  warrior,  proudly  plumed, 
And  Indian  maid,  clad  in  the  softest  doe. 

Feathered  and  fringed,  her  olive  breast  illumed 
With  rustic  gems,  his  gift,  by  daring  brought 
From  nature's  stores,  o'er  ways  with  dangers  fraught. 


rf;0«^;  < 


:*-jii«»^y 


150 


THE   DAKOTA. 


VII. 

Now  when  the  vernal  tide  its  riches  spread 

O'er  the  north  pampas,  and  the  bison  came, 
In  bands  forth  issuing,  fleetly  mounted,  sped 

The  younger  braves  to  take  the  pasturing  game. 
Armed  with  the  bow  and  spear,  each  eye  a-gleam. 

Looking  impatient  courage,  crested  high 
With  eagle  plumes  stained  to  a  crimson  flame, 

Shouting  exultant,  'gainst  the  evening  sky 
O'er  the  west  hills  they  dashed  and  far  away, 
To  strike  the  feeding  herds  ere  dawn  of  day. 

VIII. 

On  their  fleet  coursers  of  the  wild  astride 

At  morn  —  kept  by  the  single,  scarce  touched  rein, 
Now  half  unhorsed  —  o'er-leaning  low  aside. 

Quick  straight  a-mount,  alike  they  swept  the  plain. 
As  now  they  charged  the  flying  herd,  which  ta'en 

Surprised,  by  cunning  artifice,  swift  fled  , 
A  surging  mass,  — the  blackened,  trembling  plain 

And  rolling  prairie  thundering  'neath  their  tread. 
Till  it  did  seem  like  some  dark  inland  sea 
Wrought  from  beneath  to  tumult  suddenly  ! 


IX. 


Children  of  Nature,  bounteous  she  supplied 

Their  wants,  nor  wished  they  aught  she  gave  them 
not, — 


THE   DAKOTA. 


151 


{/ 


The  stretching  plains  their  country,  and  the  wide 
Skies  circling  the  sole  bound  their  science  taught, 

Swift  retribution  e'er  the  guilty  sought. 

And  justice  dealt —  their  law  the  law  of  heaven, 

Through  ages  past  to  them  tradition  brought, 
By  the  Great  Spirit  to  their  fathers  given ; 

Confirmed  to  them  whene'er  in  thunders  loud 

His  voice  they  heard  from  'midst  the  flame-reut  cloud ! 


PWW 


J 


ESSAY. 


10 


!! 


I 


^oA^UlkiL^' 


ESSAY   ON  MUSIC. 

HOW     DOES     MUSI^    ACT     UPON     ITS    AUDITOU     TO     IMPAIM"    TICK 
PLEASUKB  WHICH    IT    SO   UNIVKK8AIXY   AKFOUnsV 


Notwithstanding  the  marvellous  perfection  to 
which  Music  (comparatively  a  modem  art  though  it 
be)  has  been  brought,  and  the  very  exhaustive  treatises 
which  have  been  written  upon  the  theories  of  the  art, 
not  to  speak  of  the  wonderful  mastery  which  has  been 
obtained  over  its  technical  qualities,  psychologically 
considered  the  subject  remains  almost  untouched.  Nor 
shall  we  presume  to  attempt  to  sound  depths  of  which 
even  all-venturing  philosophy  would  thus  seem  to 
have  fought  shy. 

Our  purpose  in  this  paper  will  be  merely  to  give  in 
the  briefest  and  simplest  manner  possible  —  to  us,  an 
explanation  of  the  processes  of  the  several  factors  in 
music  as  relates  to  their  effect  upon  the  listener  ;  and 
if  we  can  succeed  in  throwing  some  light  on  the  sub- 


156 


ESSAY   ON   MUSIC. 


ject  for  the  "  great  majority,"  we  shall  not  have  labored 
in  vain,  even  though  we  may  fail  to  ''  extend  the  hori- 
zon "  of  the  more  knowing  few. 

Before  undertaking  to  offer  an  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion presented,  we  would  recall  to  mind  two  facts : 
First,  that  this  pleasure  (in  its  aggregate)  is  a  complex 
emotion,  comprising  many  simple  emotions,  which  lat- 
ter, it  may  be  observed,  would,  upon  examination,  be 
found  to  consist  of  still  other  more  subtile  refinements 
of  feeling.  Thus  our  inquiry  will  be  into  the  nature 
of  those  factors  in  music  and  their  processes,  which 
give  rise  to  the  simple  emotions ;  and  if  we  can  trace 
out  these  we  shall  at  least  have  gone  far  toward  reach- 
ing a  solution  of  the  question  presented.  The  second 
fact  is,  that  one  of  the  great  distinguishing  powers  of 
creative  minds  in  the  arts,  is  that  faculty  which  enables 
them  to  go  beyond  personal  experiences,  and  to  com- 
prehend the  whole  range  of  human  emotions  (of  which 
we  have  the  highest  example  in  the  art  of  ShSkspere), 
which  faculty  —  as  need  only  be  suggested,  is  one 
of  the  godlike  attributes  of  genius.  Thus  is  it  that 
they  are  able  to  portray  emotions  and  situations  with 
a  living  truth,  which  are  not  of  their  own  individual 
experiences. 

As  all  understand,  among  the  arts  music  takes  a 
high  place  as  an  exponent  of  the  emotions,  which, 
indeed,  was  its  primitive,  as  it  has  ever  been  its  chief 
mission ;  its  first  crude  forms  having  been  no  more 


[/ 


ESSAY  ON  MUSIC. 


157 


than  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  human  feeling ;  and 
we  need  only  remind  the  reader  of  those  deeply  sig- 
nificant Orphic  myths  to  show  how  early  was  recog- 
nized music's  intimate,  nay,  inseparable  relation  to 
and  influence  over  human  feeling.  Let  us  just  here 
direct  attention  to  the  identity  —  and  consequent  im- 
mediate connection,  which  exists  between  the  inherent 
properties  of  music  and  those  of  emotion,  which  we 
think  need  only  be  mentioned  to  be  at  once  recognized. 
These  properties,  both  in  music  and  emotion,  we  find 
to  be  Velocity,  Intensity,  Complexity,  Elation,  and 
Depression,  which,  in  the  respective  cases,  are  repre- 
sented as  follows :  — 

IN  MUSIC. 

Velocity.  By  the  several  tempi  employed,  as  various 
as  are  numerous  the  degrees  in  the  range  included 
between  the  terms  andante  and  prestissimo. 

Intensity.  By  the  infinitely  minute  gradations  pos- 
sible between  the  signs  ''^ppp  "  and  '"''fff.^'' 

Complexity.  By  numerous  subtly  interwoven  quan- 
tities of  harmony,  worked  upon  the  web  of  melody. 

Elation  and  Depression.  By  the  tones  and  their 
intervals  ranging  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  pitch. 


IN  EMOTION. 


Velocity.     By  successive  impulses  of  feeling,  such  as 
are  experienced  in  situations  which  excite  a  series  of 


158 


ESSAY   ON   MUSIC. 


emotions,  following  each  other,  as  will  be  readily 
understood,  in  various  degrees  of  velocity. 

Intensity.  By  the  various  degrees  in  which  feeling 
sways  us,  ranging  from  the  simplest  emotion,  which 
may  be  all  but  neutral,  to  the  condition  of  highest 
excitability.  (Intensity,  be  it  observed,  is  a  prop- 
erty of  each  and  every  emotion,  while  velocity  re- 
lates to  the  successive  action  of  a  chain  of  emotions.) 

Complexity.  By  a  chain  of  emotions  which  succeed 
each  other  at  a  rate  of  velocity  so  great  that  even 
the  "lightning  of  the  mind"  cannot  distinguish 
where  one  state  of  feeling  ceases  and  the  next  be- 
gins, the  appreciable  result  of  which  is  one  complete 
complex  sensation,  or  "  complexity.*^ 

Elation  and    Depression.     By  the  various  states 

•  of  feeling,  ranging  from  the  lowest  despondency  to 
the  topmost  heights  of  exultation. 


Thus  we  establish  corresponding  planes  between  the 
art  and  emotion,  which  may  assist  us  in  tracing  out 
the  process  by  which  the  one  acts  upon  the  other. 

As  the  primary  and  consequently  fundamental  con- 
stituent  of  music,   we  will   consider   Melody  first  in 
order,  and  secondly  its  grand  accessory  and  beautifier 
Harmony  ;  for,  as  we  think  is  generally  conceded,  it  i 
Melody  which  serves  in  the  art  as  the  articulat    v-  i 
medium  of  expression  as  relates  to  the  emotii^     ,  be- 
coming the   embodiment,  so   to    speak,  of  pauuular 


KSSAY    ON   MUSIC. 


159 


states  of  feeling,  varying  with  the  purpose  of  the  com- 
poser. By  melody  we  mean  any  rhythmic  progression 
of  notes,  including  recitative^  as  distinguished  from  the 
grouping  of  notes,  or  harmony.  We  think  it  may  be 
safely  premised  that  most  of  us,  some  time  or  other, 
have  experienced  all  of  what  we  may  term  the  funda- 
mental human  emotions,  —  at  least  have  felt  vibrate 
all  tones  of  the  intermediate  register,  —  to  borrow  a 
term  from  the  gamut,  varying  of  course  in  intensity 
and  continuity  with  the  susceptibility  of  the  nature, 
and  modified  by  attendant  circumstances.  Of  these 
emotions,  rising  from  time  to  time,  those  with  which 
!nusic  largely  deals  do  not  find  their  corresponding  ex- 
pression, as  will  readily  be  conceived,  and  this  is  par- 
ticularly true  of  those  tender  feelings  with  which  music 
so  continually  employs  itself,  which  emotions  lie  voice- 
less within,  awaiting  the  relief  of  expression.  As  it  is 
true  that  the  major  portion  of  mankind  have  at  least 
touched  upon  the  fundamental  range  of  feelings  com- 
mon to  humanity,  so  conversely  is  it  true  that  all  hu- 
man emotions,  as  already  intimated,  have  been  compre- 
hended by,  and  given  expression  to,  through  the 
several  media  of  art,  by  the  master-workers  there- 
with ;  and  this  may  be  said  of  music  alone,  in  so  far  as 
it  has  power  to  express  them.  Thus  it  follows  that  all 
who  can  place  themselves  in  sympathy  with  music  can 
find  therein  expression  for  every  emotion  they  may 
have  experienced,  inarticulate  though  it  be  as  compared 


160 


ESSAY   ON  MUSIC. 


with  the  art  of  speech ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  is 
equally  the  fact,  that  music  serves  as  the  medium  of 
expression  for  more  deep-lying  refinements  of  feeling, 
too  subtile  for  the  symbols  of  speech. 

It  is  a  very  frequent  occurrence  to  meet,  in  the 
course  of  our  reading,  with  a  thought  which  we  at  once 
recognize  as  one  which  we  have  ourselves  before 
known,  in  many  instances,  perhaps,  in  an  equally  posi- 
tive form  as  that  in  which  we  thus  find  it  preserved. 
It  may  be,  however,  that  we  have  never  given  it  ex- 
pression, or,  if  at  all,  we  tiave  not  expressed  it  ''  as 
well,"  as  we  often  remark.  Some  of  the  thoughts, 
however,  thus  recognized,  have  presented  themselves 
so  evanescently  to  our  consciousness  that  we  can 
hardly  claim  them  as  our  own,  their  simple  outline 
having  merely  passed  before  our  mental  perception, 
without  leaving  any  distinct  impression,  just  as  the 
prepared  plate  in  the  camera  receives  an  imperfect 
outline  only  of  an  object  if  presented  to  it  but  for  an 
instant. 

Yet  again  we  can  conceive  that  there  are  still  other 
thoughts  in  embryo  which  have  only  just  reached  the 
border-line  of  consciousness,  as  yet  on  the  nether  side, 
which  we  have  not  known  at  all,  although  the  germ  is 
there.  But  the  moment  these  come  in  contact  with 
their  true  expression,  they  become  quickened  into  life, 
as  the  electric  current  springs  forth  the  moment  its 
complete  conductor  touches  its  source.    In  like  manner 


f. 


ESSAY   ON   MUSIC. 


161 


we  conceive  it  to  be  the  case  with  feeling.  From  the 
most  neutral  to  the  most  actively  alive,  are  there  emo- 
tions waiting  upon  expression.  Of  these,  many  may 
have  already  found  expression  but  their  ))ermanent, 
unfathomable  nature  makes  repeated  expression  ever 
welcome  to  them,  which  indeed  may  be  said,  with  more 
or  less  truth,  of  all  emotion.  Others  have  been  but 
partially  expressed,  some  never  at  all,  while  again  there 
are  those  (if  we  may  be  allowed  to  anticipate  their  ex- 
istence) which,  like  the  thought  in  embryo,  have  not 
as  yet  taken  their  positive  form,  but  which  (or,  more 
precisely  speaking,  their  conditions)^  when  brought 
in  contact  with  their  conductor,  become  vivified,  and 
produce  their  corresponding  sensation.  It  occurs  to  us 
that  those  nameless  emotions  which  many  of  us  have 
experienced  when  under  the  influence  of  certain  pas- 
sages in  the  music  of  such  magicians  in  the  sound  art 
as  Beethoven,  for  which  we  are  unable  to  find  any  ex- 
pression, belong  to  the  class  last  named,  which,  unde- 
fined though  they  be,  afford  us  a  pleasure  of  a  very 
positive,  albeit  mysterious  character.  If  the  doctrine 
of  metempsychosis  were  admissible,  these  stranger  emo- 
tions might  be  accounted  for  by  supposing  them  to  be 
related  to  some  prior  condition  of  existence ;  emotions 
to  which  such  music  as  that  named  alone  is  capable  of 
giving  utterance,  in  this  present  existence. 

Hence,  admitting  the  theory  that  the  master-workers 
in  the  art  under  consideration  have  comprehended  all 


i. 


162 


ESSAY  ON  MUSIC. 


human  feelings  —  indeed,  in  the  immediately  preceding 
proposition  we  have  gone  farther  and  attributed  to  the 
greater  Seers  in  the  art  a  comprehension  of  conditions 
eyen  heyond  this  present  sphere  of  existence,  —  and 
created  therefore  their  true  conductor  (*.  «.,  form  of 
expression),  it  follows  that  when  we  place  ourselves 
under  the  influence  of  such  media,  in  the  hands  of  the 
interpreter,  the  latent,  or  active,  though  unexpressed, 
feeling  responds  thereto,  affording  that  pleasurable  re- 
lief which  the  expression  of  unuttered  feeling  always 
gives. 

Let  us  apply  our  premises.  In  listening  to  a  musical 
composition  we  recognize  it  as  dealing  with  some  given 
sentiment.  Not  the  exact  shade  of  that  sentiment, 
but  the  fundamental  feeling,  and  therefore  one  which, 
accepting  the  hypothesis  submitted,  each  auditor  has 
already  experienced,  hence  recognizes.  Thus  identified, 
our  emotional  nature  responds  thereto,  in  various  de- 
grees in  each  individual,  as  already  pointed  out,  as  such 
of  their  several  experiences,  as  harmonize  with  such 
sentiment,  vary  (for  as  the  composer  more  or  less 
colors  the  emotion  interpreted  with  his  own  individu- 
ality, so  does  each  auditor  receive  such  interpretation 
in  its  application  to  his  own  particular  experience),  and 
more  or  less  intense  as  the  emotional  nature  prevails. 
Furthermore,  the  effect  will  of  course  be  in  proportion 
as  the  composer  possessed  a  nature  capable  of  feeling, 
and  power  to  truthfully  interpret  through  his  art  the 


ESSAY   ON  MUSIC. 


163 


given  emotion.  Each  thus  recognizing  in  the  given 
melody  the  expression  of  a  feeling  which  they  have 
themselves  known  (subject  to  the  modifications  men- 
tioned), and  which  has  never  found  any  or  but  partial 
expression,  the  emotional  being  which,  so  to  speak,  is 
bearing  the  burden  of  the  unrelieved  feeling,  gladly 
welcomes  and  rests  itself  upon  that  expression,  mak- 
ing it  its  own,  and  thus  experiencing  a  sense  of  relief 
and  coutentedness,  the  ultimate  of  which  we  call 
"  pleasure."  This  effect,  it  is  tq.  be  understood,  is  not, 
however,  a  permanent,  but  merely  a  present  delight, 
experienced  only  so  long  as  we  remain  under  the  in- 
fluence of  music,  unless  perhaps  it  may  be  said  to  con- 
tinue immediately  after  the  divine  voice  has  ceased,  for 
such  brief  time  as  memory  may  dwell  thereupon.  We 
mean  that  music  is  not  a  continuing  indwelling  source 
of  pleasure  to  us,  as  is,  for  instance,  any  satisfying  con- 
sciousness of  a  permanent  possession,  ever  yielding 
delight.  True,  it  is  now  and  ever  ours,  and  now  and 
ever  a  source  of  enjoyment  to  us ;  but  it  only  contri- 
butes to  our  happiness  trAcn  we  resort  to  it,  and  sur- 
render ourselves  to  its  influence.  Its  dwelling>place  is 
in  the  unknown  spheres,  whereto  soaring  Genius  alone 
is  able  to  attain ;  and  Genius  alone  it  is  which  has 
brought  thence  to  earth,  even  as  did  Prometheus  the 
sacred  fire  from  Heaven,  its  infinite  riches  and  divine 
beauty  for  the  delectation  and  exaltation  of  mankind. 
Thus,  while  it  is  ever  ready  to  afford  us  delight,  it  is 


164 


ESSAY   ON   MUSIC. 


i 


merely  a  present  satisfaction ;  but  at  the  same  time 
one  which  may  be  enjoyed  as  frequently  as  we  will, 
because  it  ministers  to  the  happiness  of  feelings  which 
never  cease  to  pulsate  in  the  human  heart,  and  to  which 
utterance  is  ever  welcome. 

There  is  another  class  of  emotions  of  which  music 
serves  as  an  exponent,  by  a  somewhat  different  process 
which  may  be  termed  objective,  as  those  we  have  been 
considering  are  subjective.  We  mean  those  emotions 
which  are  more  immediately  brought  into  play  by 
music  when  it  is  employed  as  a  descriptive  medium. 
While,  as  has  already  been  said,  all  mankind  have  ex- 
perienced, in  various  degrees,  the  fundamental  feelings 
of  our  human  nature,  it  is  true  that  nearly  all  have 
known  something  of  the  more  immediately  and  pro- 
nouncedly exalting  emotions.  Such,  for  instance,  as 
those  of  the  sublime,  the  heroic,  and  the  like ;  and  it 
is  more  eminently  true  of  these  (especially  in  this 
materialistic  age)  that  they  but  seldom  find  any  ex- 
pression, except  what  may  be  termed  the  sympathetic 
expression,  afforded  when  we  come  under  the  influence 
of  art;  though  in  higher  natures  it  is  of  course  true, 
that  the  sublime  emotions  find  their  deepest  expe- 
riences in  contemplating  the  glory  and  mystery  of  the 
natural  world.  Thus  such  music  as  represents  mar- 
tial cadences,  the  pageantry  or  assault  of  arms,  or  (as 
relates  to  the  more  exclu  'vely  sublime)  those  grand 
choral-form  progressions;   those  magnificent   passages 


ESSAY   ON   MUSIC. 


165 


which  we  at  once  recognize,  as  by  intuition,  as  the 
utterance  of  emotions  which  can  only  pertain  to  the 
most  exalted  planes  of  feeling,  —  to  which  the  highest 
organisms  alone  can  attain,  which  passages  awaken 
that  profounder  sentiment  which  springs  worshipfully 
from  the  suggestion  or  presentation  (as  far  as  may 
be)  in  music,  of  divine  presences;  such  forms,  we  say, 
call  up  and  afford  an  expression  to  the  sublimer  emo- 
tions which  elsewise  for  the  most  part  they  know  not; 
and  the  man  or  woman  with  but  little,  if  any,  of  the 
religious  or  heroic  in  their  natures  are  by  this  agency 
stirred  to  a  depth  which  no  other  influence  could 
ever  reach.  Under  the  influence  of  the  class  of  music 
named,  which  excites  the  heroic  sentiment,  we  feel 
that  pleasure  which  a  quickening  of  the  manlier,  nobler 
impulses  of  courage,  daring,  and  the  like  affords ; 
while  in  the  latter  case,  where  the  religious  sentiment 
is  brought  into  action,  we  are  subdued  into  a  state  of 
serene  submissiveness,  to  which  we  surrender  ourselves 
with  feelings  of  composeful  happiness. 

Moreover,  be  it  remembered  that  this  pleasure  is  at 
the  same  time  being  largely  contributed  to  by  the 
^'association  process,"  without  which,  indeed,  the  ef- 
fect would  be  but  indifferently  accomplished.  Indiffer- 
ently, we  say,  for  we  believe  that  melody  possesses 
an  intrmsic  power  to  express  feeling,  independently 
of  the  association  principle.  This  latter,  however, 
probably  contributes  most  largely  to  the  pleasure  ex- 


166 


ESSAY   ON  MUSIC. 


perienced,  busying  itself  gathering  about  such  pleasur- 
able feeling  as  a  given  theme  or  passage  may  awaken, 
all  experiences   in   consonance   therewith,  which   add 
their  coloring  to  the  dominant  emotion.     Herein  then 
seems  to  lie  the  primary  source  of  pleasure  derived 
from  music;  but  over  and  beyond  the  pleasure  which 
is  thus  drawn  from  what  may  be  termed  the  soul  of 
music,  there  is  a  supplementary  pleasure  afforded  by 
the  external  forms  of  melody.     This  clearly  arises 
from  the  perception  in  the  numerous  rhythmic  designs 
and  varying  cadences  of  the  beauty  of  symmetry,  pro- 
portion, and  the  like,  while  at  the  same  time,  the  chosen 
theme  may  present  to  the  consciousness  some  of  the 
multitudinous  vocal  rhythms  of  the  natural  world.     It 
may  be  that  grace  of  motion  witnessed  in  the  rocking 
wavelets  as  they  murmur  of  repose;    or  the  happy 
warble  of  woodland  songsters;  the  glad-voiced  babble 
of  the  stream;  the  musical  laughter  of  falling  water, 
or,  to  select  some  of  the  more  sublime  manifestations 
of  Nature,  the  various  phenomena  of  the  storm.    And 
here  again  is  the  *^  association  process "  found  at  work, 
calling  up  the  charmful  scenes  where  such  delightful 
presences  abound,  thus  giving  rise  to  other  simple  emo- 
tions, each  contributing  its  pleasurable  sensation,  the 
aggregate   of  all    being  the   "complex,"  or  complete 
pleasure. 

Moreover,  the  external  forms  of  melody  delight  us 
by  their  elaborations  and  emltellishments   of  delicate 


•> 


ESSAY   ON  MUSIC. 


167 


arabeRques,  affording  us  a  pleasure  very  similar  to,  if 
indeed,  not  identical  with,  that  experienced  in  contem- 
plating the  graceful  and  fantastic  designs  of  line  and 
curve,  wrought  into  infinite  forms  of  beauty  in  a  sister 
art. 

We  have  thus  sought  to  show  that  melody  is  the 
prime  source  of  that  pleasure  which  music  affords,  not, 
however,  wishing  to  be  understood  that  mere  melody, 
skeletonized,  could  equally  afford  us  this  pleasure,  but 
that  as  presented  in  musical  composition  it  is  the  prin- 
cipal factor  which  produces  the  pleasurable  emotion 
experienced. 

First,  as  being  the  embodied  expression,  ever  ready 
to  be  employed,  of  all  feelings  which  humanity  recog- 
nizes as  its  own,  that  is,  the  soul  of  it ;  and  secondly, 
by  its  external  beauty  of  form  and  embellishment. 

We  shall  now  very  briefly  state  our  views  as  to  the 
part  taken  in  music,  as  relates  to  its  effect  upon  the 
auditor,  by  Harmony,  which  is  understood  to  be  the 
combination  of  several  notes  bearing  relative  consistent 
proportions  to  a  fundamental  tone.  Of  course  the  ef- 
fect of  music  is  determined  by  the  truthfulness  and 
power  with  which  it  is  interpreted  by  the  performer. 
The  general  term  "  expression  "  so  universally  em- 
ployed to  specify  the  manner  of  rendering  musical 
compositions,  may  be  said  to  include  the  other  kindred 
terms,  accentuation,  coloring,  and  the  like.  The  first 
of  these  we  find  applied  to  the  emphasis  given  to  cer- 


168 


ESSAY  ON   MUSIC. 


I 


tain  notes  or  phrases,  while  by  the  second  is  understood 
the  ever  varying  intensity  ( which  we  know  as  the 
"  light  and  shade "  of  music)  under  the  treatment  of 
the  interpreter,  of  the  aggregate  outflow  of  sound  in 
its  entirety^  as  well  as  in  its  several  constituent  tones. 

We  refer  to  these  terms,  as  we  desire  that  the  effect 
understood  by  the  last  named,  coloring^  should  be  had  in 
mind  in  noticing  the  effects  of  harmony  upon  the  list- 
ener. 

The  meed  of  pleasure  which  harmony  contributes  to 
the  aggregate  derived  from  music  clearly  results  from 
the  mental  perception  of  the  rich  vestments,  so  to 
speak,  woven  from  its  "  concord  of  sweet  sounds,"  in 
which  it  robes  its  subject.  As  presented  to  the  imagi- 
nation, its  innumerable  combinations  of  beauty  delight 
us  now  by  their  embroider-like  richness,  following 
which  we  are  led  along,  amid  ingeniously  developed 
progressions,  from  one  enchanting  surprise  to  another, 
here  and  there  to  linger  in  some  fairy-like  dell  of 
sound,  calling  up  before  the  fancy  some  flower-bright 
glade,  bathed  in  the  rose-haze  of  summer ;  now  daz- 
zling us  by  their  regal  splendor  scintillating  with  rich 
decoration  as  might  the  brilliant  caparisons  of  a  royal 
pageant  glistening  in  the  sunlight,  calling  up  the  more 
pleasurable  phases  of  wonder  and  admiration ;  or  again 
by  their  closely  interwoven,  yet  in  point  of  continu- 
ance, broadly  extended,  beauty,  through  which  run  the 
golden  threads  of  melody,  suggesting  the  velvety  rich- 


ESSAY   ON  MUSIC. 


169 


in 


ler, 
of 


ness  of  royal  tapestries,  into  which  are  woven  uniquely 
delicate  or  boldly  figured  designs,  giving  rise  to  other 
modified  yet  perhaps  not  less  pleasing  phases  of  the 
emotions  named,  and  so  forth.  All  these  harmonic 
variations,  infinite  in  number,  being  consistently  pro- 
portioned and  combined,  now  in  powerful  contrasts,  or 
again  in  the  most  delicate  interfusions  of  sound,  their 
effect  upon  the  sensibilities  is,  we  conceive,  all  but 
identical  with  that  experienced  in  contemplating  perfect 
combinations,  gradations,  and  interblendings  of  colors 
especially  if  in  action  as  in  a  sunset,  particularly  when 
viewed  across  a  rocking  expanse  of  waters,  upon  which 
the  rich  masses  of  color  are  cradled  into  innumerable 
combinations  of  beauty  and  infinite  variations  of  irides- 
cent glory. 

To  recapitulate:  we  have  sought  to  show  that  the 
pleasure  derived  from  music  is  chiefly  prodced  by  its 
principal.  Melody. 

1.  As  a  medium  of  utterance  to  human  feeling,  the 
expression  of  which  being  by  the  very  necessities  of 
our  organisms  one  of  the  greatest  sources  of  happiness 
to  mankind,  ministering  on  the  one  hand  in  so  gentle, 
sweet-voiced,  and  effective  a  manner  to  subdue,  soothe, 
or  relieve  the  most  tender,  most  demandful  of  our 
emotions,  and  on  the  other  hand  to  call  into  action 
and  give  exercise  to  the  more  vigorous  impulses. 

2.  By  the  countless  designs  of  beauty  presented  in 
h'-..  fry  nSf  adorned  by  the  rich  embellishments  employed. 


170 


ESSAY   ON   MUSIC. 


3.  By  calling  into  action  the  ''  association  process  '* 
which  contributes  largely  to  the  total  of  pleasure  ex- 
perienced ;  and  finally,  that  as  the  great  auxiliary  of 
melody,  harmony  contributes  largely  to  increase  this 
pleasure,  in  the  manner  pointed  out. 


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